


The Sootface

by positively_dashed



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 33,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positively_dashed/pseuds/positively_dashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel, once of Gondolin, had been returned to life by the Valar to stand at the side of Elrond Eärendilion in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Torn from the silence of Mandos' Halls and forced to face the Enemy again, he feels lost among his own. Until he meets an elf called The Sootface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I.

Glorfindel first noticed him after some weeks in the camp.

He was walking down a row of tents from the High King’s compound to the training grounds when he heard a beating of hooves. There were usually no riders allowed into this part of the camp and he was immediately on alert, hand shooting towards the hilt of his sword. A black horse shining with sweat appeared in the turning at full gallop.

His adjutant noticed his agitation, staying his hand with a light touch to his forearm.

“Peace, my Lord. That is the King’s informant.”

Glorfindel glanced at him and then back at the rider, who was already passing them still at full speed heading towards the command tents. He looked around and saw that nobody seemed to pay much attention to the dark clad rider. He frowned at what seemed to him as carelessness, and then turned away continuing his walk towards the training fields, but not without looking over his shoulder once or twice.

The information the Informant had must indeed be crucial if he dared riding through that part of the camp at such speed.

He didn’t remember ever seeing such a beautiful horse in Gondolin…

~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel, once of Gondolin, had been returned to life by the Valar to stand at the side of Elrond Eärendilion in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Torn from the silence of Mandos' Halls and forced to face the Enemy again, he feels lost among his own. Until he meets an elf called The Sootface.

II.

 

The next glance he got of the mysterious elf and his beautiful horse was that same day when the scout seemed to be leaving. 

A peculiar elf. Tall and lanky. But not as tall as he, for not many were.

One of the distinguishing features about the elf were his hair. Not so much the color. It was dark as the Noldorin typically had, but for their folk it was very short, reaching only just below his chin. When Glorfindel saw him, he was just pulling it into a tight ponytail. The dark strands were barely long enough to be tied back and some stayed loose around his forehead and neck.

The most distinctive thing about him, however, was that his face and neck were blackened, and so not much was discernible of his face from the distance.

He swung up onto his horse and rode off.

~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel, once of Gondolin, had been returned to life by the Valar to stand at the side of Elrond Eärendilion in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Torn from the silence of Mandos' Halls and forced to face the Enemy again, he feels lost among his own. Until he meets an elf called The Sootface.

III.

Next time Glorfindel met him up close.

When he was leaving the High King’s tent after his report on the training of new recruits, they nearly collided in the entrance. The darkling immediately backed off, bowed to him and waited for him to leave, but the ancient elf lord stood staring at him for a moment, still standing in his way. 

The scout bowed so quickly he didn’t even have a chance to look into his face.

Glorfindel sized up the other elf. For it was undeniably an elf, he could clearly see the pointed ear tips now.

He was dressed in a black garment, close fitting but comfortable to move or ride in. He wore a harness of dark leather and a short staff fastened to it on his back, two sheathed daggers at the hips.

Should he come armed to the King’s tent? Only lords and captains were allowed so.

~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel, once of Gondolin, had been returned to life by the Valar to stand at the side of Elrond Eärendilion in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Torn from the silence of Mandos' Halls and forced to face the Enemy again, he feels lost among his own. Until he meets an elf called The Sootface.

IV.

After that Glorfindel started seeing him more often. 

He asked his fellow captains about the elf but didn’t receive much of an answer. Between the king’s captains he was spoken of as The King’s Agent, The Scout or Informant, but when the King or his herald were not present, they most often titled him The Sootface. He was the High King’s master spy, and seemed well respected for his services but that was all. They did not even know his name and so Glorfindel hadn’t either for some time. 

He wondered if it was the boredom of the monotonous life of military training, or the need to take his mind of inner struggles and anxiety of waiting for an inevitable battle, but he found himself thinking about the dark elf in quiet moments.

He pictured the short-haired agent in his mind and realized that he was being slightly hypocritical about the hair. His own hair stood out just as well being of the Vanyarin gold, but also for being quite short at the time.

Not long after his arrival, one of his nightmares chased him from bed and without being fully aware of what he was doing he had a dagger in his hand and was hacking at his long yellow tresses, the fright and the echo of the torment that was the balrog’s claw dragging him back by his hair alive in his terrified half-waking mind.

After he woke fully, trembling on the floor between the brutalized tresses, he washed his face, brushed the remains of the mane the Valar had returned him with, and cut it evenly. It now reached just to his collarbone curling in loose waves.

His own troubled relationship with the golden mane that gave him his name made him the more curious about why Sootface wore his hair so short. Was it only practicality?

After his arrival in Middle-earth he struggled to acclimate himself to a much changed world. He remembered his former life and his personality felt whole and untouched, but the emotions connected to his memories were hollow and hazy. For that he both praised and cursed the Valar in the privacy of his mind. He realized well enough that were he to remember all he would not be able to go on, that he would fade as soon as the pain of loss of all he once held dear impacted him fully. His former life was made a distant memory, blunted enough to keep him sane. But the pain and the terror were still within him, darkness calling for darkness, haunting him at night.

There were moments when his spirits were particularly low, when he wondered what they expected of him. He was one of many captains but clearly the most infamous one. Him, a famed balrog slayer. A confused stranger who was sometimes hard pressed to even speak their language correctly.

What did the Valar return him for? Was it another chance at life or a punishment? 

Thus far he was mostly convinced it was the latter.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please stay tuned and let me know what you think so far :)


	5. Chapter 5

V.

Glorfindel was walking towards the High King’s tent on his summons when he once again heard the beating of horse’s hooves nearby. A dark figure on a tall black horse was approaching, soldiers jumping left and right out of the way. 

Glorfindel saw Lord Elrond exit the command tent just as the agent slid from his horse and tore away a black scarf that was wound around his head, uncovering a face that was almost as dark as the cloth he had just removed.

“My Lord Elrond,” the elf bowed.

“Erestor! You were keenly awaited. How is the situation?”

They disappeared into the tent and Glorfindel made to follow, but he was stopped by the King’s guard and asked to kindly wait.

Glorfindel stepped to the side and then after a while decided to leave altogether and come to report to the King later.

So the Sootface had a name after all.  
Erestor.

~


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Not long after that, Erestor the King’s agent became a part of the strategy meetings when available. At those times his face was washed, or at least as much as was possible. When Glorfindel first met him there he was finally able to match a face to the already familiar figure. 

Erestor’s face was a stern one, accentuated by the gauntness of his cheeks and the remaining darker patches where soot proved too ingrained to wash off. His nose was long and narrow, mouth small with a bow shaped upper lip.

He didn’t speak much, and if he did he usually conversed quietly with Lord Elrond or with King Gil-galad himself.

He usually disappeared right after the meeting was concluded, but one time he lingered over the maps. Glorfindel decided to take the opportunity. He knew all usually present at the meetings, but was never officially introduced to the High King’s spy.

He put a friendly smile on his face and approached the other ellon.   
“Pardon me, but I believe we haven’t yet been introduced.”

The spy looked up, clearly surprised and disturbed from his thoughts. His eyes were dark. Not black nor brown, but deep green. And he lowered them quickly.

“That is indeed so, my lord. I am Erestor, one of the king’s agents. It is an honour to meet one of such renown as you,” again he bowed his head to Glorfindel, who although used to such behaviour from others, didn’t mean for their introductions to go quite this way and was getting a little uncomfortable. For some reason he thought this time it might turn up differently.

“You know, I find it slightly dispiriting to be deprived of the right to even introduce myself by name.”

Glorfindel meant it in jest to lighten the mood but at Erestor’s unsure and slightly alarmed look he hastened to appease the clearly overly proper ellon.

“Nevertheless, it is a pleasure, lord Erestor.”

He could see the forest green of the spy’s wide eyes quite clearly now.

“I am no lord… my lord.”

Glorfindel grinned wrily. That was going _well_ indeed.

“Oh, I assumed… well. Master Erestor, then.”

Erestor nodded and Glorfindel grasped for the next available topic.

“Your mare is very beautiful.”

“I thank you for your praise, my lord. She is that, and very swift.”

When no more was forthcoming and the silence stretched Glorfindel’s eyes, seemingly having a mind of their own, slid to the other ellon’s hair. Probably trying to find an answer for _the question_.

Erestor lifted his eyebrows.

“Is anything the matter, my lord?”

“Oh no, nothing. It is just…”

“Please…?” 

“I apologize if my question is too personal, but what made you wear your hair this way?”  
There, he said it.

“So short you mean, my lord?”

Glorfindel nodded vigorously and then blushed. Asking an almost stranger such a personal question in their first conversation face to face was… unusual at best.

Erestor seemed unfazed, however, for a change.

“I had quite a long plait not long ago, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

Glorfindel frowned uncomprehending. The High King’s master spy obviously liked to keep others in suspense.

“An yrch grabbed me by it and I had to cut it off or be cut down.”

Glorfindel’s lips formed a little “o”.

“Oh…” a memory started to surface but he pushed it down.   
“I… do know that feeling…” he almost whispered. “Only I didn’t manage to cut my hair off then.”

Erestor looked at him bemusedly, then understanding appeared in his eyes and he gasped.

Glorfindel noticed how the other elf was now studying him with his disconcertingly piercing stare, no doubt trying to guess the reason for his current haircut.

When the silence became unbearable again, Erestor was the one to break it.

“I find that while the war lasts I might keep my hair this way. I wish you a pleasant day, my lord Glorfindel.”

Glorfindel nodded slightly stunned as Erestor bowed to him and left the tent.

~


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

The unruly golden mane lengthened as the time passed, but he took to wearing it braided tightly. He only loosened the braid when going to bed. 

Before falling asleep, he often thought about taking a lover to perhaps ease the feeling of being so out of place. Because where to find comfort if not in the arms of a lover.

Glorfindel knew about himself that he was drawn towards the more defined male physique rather than to the soft female curves. That was one of the reasons why he never married. 

In Gondolin such relations were strictly banned. They were a city under siege, after all. Procreation and raising their numbers were high on the agenda. For when the enemy came…  
When the enemy did have come, their numbers meant only more souls being sent to Mandos’ halls by the hordes of monsters Morgoth had thrown at them.

The fact that relationships between those of the same gender were officially forbidden did not mean he had not had male lovers in his former life. He knew he had. But not a single face stayed in his crippled memory. Though they must have been close trusted ones.

He found to his secret joy that such relations did not seem to be a problem in Gil-galad’s army. Since his arrival he had glimpsed several couples of male soldiers trading intimate touches under the cover of darkness and more restrained ones in the plain sight of others.  
And nobody seemed to consider it something to be shunned.

So at least some things appeared to have improved during his absence _from life_.

He could try to woo somebody. Not that there would be a lack of admiring glances. There were too many and maybe that was the problem. It just didn’t appeal. A meaningless romp just did not appeal. The emptiness would not be appeased, it would only grow.

“Captain Glorfindel, are you well?”

“Yes, yes I am. Why do you ask, my lord?”

“You seemed to me… in low spirits.”

Elrond's eyes could see deeper than most, Glorfindel had already learned that.

“It is nothing. I am still accalama... accli-matising... myself. And sometimes it is just harder to cope, my lord.”

Elrond nodded with a sad smile, ignoring Glorfindel’s obvious embarrassment over tripping over his tongue once again. “Please don't call me so anymore. I owe you my very existence. I told you titles are not needed between us. I consider you a dear friend.”

“I thank you. Please call me just by name also.”

“As you wish, Glorfindel.”

Elrond kept looking at him and it was disconcerting.

“Please don’t be angry with me for saying this, but it is plain to see that you are lonely, my friend. And I am sorry for it. I wish I had more time to spend with you and make you feel more welcome, because you are. I know it must be hard for you to relate to anyone, but try not to distance yourself unnecessarily.”

Glorfindel gave a short bitter laugh.

“The other day I tried to mingle with my men a little. Some of them decided to teach me several games that are now played with cards. When they saw how hopelessly lost I was in the rules, they just let me win by cheating unknowingly. I only realized it later.”

“You do need company, but not one of admirers.”

“That is easily said.”

Elrond laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you join me in my tent tomorrow after dusk. I have a small gathering planned. There will be wine, chess and hopefully some good talk.”

Glorfindel couldn't help but think that this invitation was not a spur of the moment thing, Elrond had somehow designed this.  
“Oh, that is very generous of you. I will gladly come.”

Elrond smiled. “I should probably warn you that the only other invited guest is Erestor. You do remember him, do you not? The black clad fellow with rather short hair. You have met in some of the command meetings, I believe.”

“I do indeed remember him, though I have only spoken to him briefly.”

“Good. I can promise you that neither me nor Erestor will let you win without a fight just because of your reputation. In truth, you might be begging for mercy when he’s finished with you.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened, and Elrond laughed.

“He is a peculiar fellow and a formidable opponent. And he has a great passion for board games of all kinds.”

“I will be glad to meet him again.”

“Tomorrow night then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Even though Glorfindel couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow being set up by his lord and charge, he was looking forward to the next day like yet never before in his new life.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of matchmaking Elrond :)


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

The day and a half went by slowly. Glorfindel trained the troops, walked around, tended to his horse, ate and slept. When dusk of the second day was near, he returned to his tent and changed. He unbraided and brushed his lengthening hair and let it loose around his shoulders. Then he set out for his lord’s abode. 

There were carafes of wine and water and assorted foods on the table. Also a chess set, three wooden boxes and a deck of cards. Elrond was sitting reading some document, but he rose to welcome his guest.

Glorfindel smiled looking at a platter of thinly sliced meats, a basket with bread rolls and a bowl of fruit.  
“I have eaten, Elrond.”

“I know, my friend, I have seen you at dinner. But the night is long and Erestor can always use a bit more to eat. He is basically living of lembas most of the time.”

Before Glorfindel could answer there was a light tap-tap on the canvas and after Elrond’s permission the tent flap was lifted and Erestor walked in.

“Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel,” he bowed to each of them in turn.

“Erestor. I am glad you could join us this fine evening.”

“I thank you for inviting me, my lord.”

“Master Erestor,” Glorfindel inclined his head to the short-haired ellon. “I see you are indeed not letting your hair grow.”

“And I see that you are, my lord.”

Glorfindel smiled at him, relieved that there seemed to be no awkwardness between them after their last meeting...

“I apologize for my abrupt exit the last time we met, my lord. I did not mean to appear rude.”

Glorfindel quickly shook his head.  
“There is nothing to apologize for. You probably saved us from another awkward bout of silence.”

They both chuckled and Elrond lifted his eyebrows both intrigued by what they were talking about and surprised by Glorfindel’s honesty.

They seated themselves, Elrond poured wine and asked Erestor about his last mission. Glorfindel listened raptly to the concise description Erestor gave of his certainly perilous journey around the enemy encampments, and contemplated the talking ellon. 

Erestor was dressed in a beige tunic, short leather jerkin and leggings, something Glorfindel never saw him wearing. His hair was held back from his face by a thin braid, the loose strands still reaching only just to his chin. It was interesting that if he was dressed like others, he was a rather plain looking ellon. The kind that would blend in completely, unobtrusive and invisible. No doubt qualities that were advantageous in his calling. But when he was dressed in his black garment meant to mask him in the darkened wilderness, he stood out like a sore thumb between the brightly armoured elven soldiers. What a contradiction.

After Erestor finished his tale, they talked about everyday things for a while and when the conversation petered out, one of the wooden boxes was brought to the table. It contained a game unknown to Glorfindel, but when the rules were explained to him, he thought he remembered playing a similar game once.

“No.”

Glorfindel looked up and let go of the piece he was about to move.

“The archers are not to be used until the third move, my lord.”

“Oh, I apologize. I forgot. Thank you for pointing it out to me.”

Erestor inclined his head in a nod unaware of Elrond exchanging glances with a smiling Glorfindel.

As the evening progressed, food and wine were steadily disappearing, and the three ellons around the table were getting merrier. Even Erestor’s pale cheeks got slightly more pink.

Glorfindel lost several games but he also won one. When he had unsurely presented his hand to Erestor, the dark haired ellon had laid down his cards slowly and looked at the warrior as if the painted papers in his hand had personally offended him.

“Luck is with you, my lord. You win.”

It was the first time Elrond heard the returned hero laugh heartily and he cherished the sound.

During their conversation between playing they found out that Erestor knew a game that was once Glorfindel’s favourite. It was an old game that survived almost unchanged in rules and setting, but nobody had it anymore. They talked about it at length and shared their experiences wistfully, until Glorfindel stated that he would make the set himself, so they could play it in their next meeting.

When they parted the dawn was breaking and each went after his tasks. Glorfindel was merry and his heart felt light.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I would get stuck if I hadn't posted it. Thoughts?


	9. Chapter 9

IX.

Weeks had gone by before their second game night could take place. 

For Glorfindel those were unexpectedly calm and joyous weeks. Weeks that he spent by attending to his duties, but while that was all he had had to busy himself with before, now there was more.

He congratulated himself for the decision to make the pieces to his favourite game. The moments of leisure, when his mind would normally be plagued by brooding thoughts induced by inactivity and boredom, were now spent in diligent creative work that filled him with childlike joy.

During his walks through the camp he picked up pebbles of suitable size and shape to be used as tokens and in his free time he whittled tiny statuettes of houses and animals from scraps of wood. On his day off from training he painted a piece of canvas to serve as the game plan. The first attempt was not entirely to his liking, so he made another one.

As the game set was taking shape under his hands, he was looking forward more and more to using it. It was not perfect, but he was proud of it anyway. 

He saw Erestor return from his patrol once, but whatever information he brought seemed to cause concern and he was immediately sent off again, much to Glorfindel’s disappointment.

And thus in the meantime he painted even the statuettes that had been first left plain. He fastened the canvas to a board that could be folded. He also had a special box made. And then he decided to paint its lid.

When finally Elrond invited Glorfindel over, the ancient warrior felt like an elfling before Midwinter gift giving, even though he himself would be the gift giver and it was the end of summer.

To say that Elrond and Erestor looked surprised when Glorfindel presented his creation, might be an understatement. The short-haired ellon was obviously astonished, and Glorfindel secretly delighted in it.

Erestor unpacked the pieces from the box almost reverently. He caressed the foldable board with a carefully pinned on canvas that Glorfindel spent a whole day on, gently picked up several wooden animals with his pale long fingered hand and inspected them one by one, awed by the warrior’s skill and dedication. Elrond restricted himself to smiling and nodding in appreciation.

“My lord, I find myself speechless. This is most beautiful.”

“The set is rudimentary, but I am glad it is to your liking, master Erestor.”

“Not just to my liking… It would be the greatest honor if you would consider to let me have the game - for any price you name - for my collection. Sometime in the future, that is. However, I understand if you do not wish to part with it, you must have invested much time and skill into it.”

Erestor was right, Glorfindel wasn’t sure if he wanted to part with the game set. But if it maybe one day became a part of a collection of such an enthusiast as Erestor seemed to be, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all… And maybe it was just nice to think that there even would be some future after all that was happening around them.

“I will think about it.”

“I thank you,” Erestor bowed his head.

“Now, let us play to see if it is even functional.”

Elrond let them play the first two games by themselves.  
“I am not familiar with this game, my friends, I need to observe first and then use the tricks I learn to beat you both.” 

He then watched with an amused smirk hidden by his goblet how the two deadly warriors tried to crush each other by means of elaborate strategic maneuvers performed by tiny wooden animals and little heaps of pebbles on what he very much suspected was once meant to be a regimental banner.

They played several more times, with Elrond or without. Elrond never managed to win after all and they ended up alternating on the winner's post. The wine was disappearing even faster than the last time, and it was again morning when Glorfindel and Erestor, both in rather high spirits, left their lord’s tent.

“Where do you stay when at camp? I would wish to talk to you some more when an opportunity arises. That is if you would wish to as well, of course,” said Glorfindel thinking himself emboldened by the wine perhaps.

“I am not in camp much, as you might have noticed. When I am I sleep by the fire or wherever there’s a spot.”

“Oh, I though... you are... and I have the tent just for myself. If you are ever in need of a place to rest undisturbed, please don’t hesitate to call on me. I would be glad for your company.”

“I thank you for your kind offer, my lord.”

“Please do not call me so, Erestor. I would like to consider you a friend and equal. The house I was a lord of is no more, after all. I am now a captain, but not yours. And the only thing I am a lord of perhaps is my tent.”

“So I can call you lord there?”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened and Erestor blushed slightly at his own boldness, perhaps caused by the wine he consumed. 

The awkward moment was broken by Glorfindel’s bright laugh.

“Well, maybe. Do come visit. My tent is your tent. Anytime.”

Erestor inclined his head to him and they bid each other farewell.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You two, don’t blame it on the alcohol.


	10. Chapter 10

X.

Glorfindel entered his tent one eve to find a dark shape huddled up in a blanket on his tent floor. It unsettled him at first, but after lighting a lantern he quickly smiled at his own forgetfulness and at Erestor’s brazeness. He had invited the elf to use his tent whenever he needed a place to sleep, after all, and as it was raining heavily outside, the spy clearly had no qualms about accepting the offer even without the tent’s owner being present.

Glorfindel quietly prepared for bed and climbed under his blankets. He fell asleep watching the back of Erestor’s dark head, tracing with his eyes the short strands of dark hair only just visible in the weak light of the shielded lantern he always let burning through the night.

He was awakened by quiet rustling. Weak daylight was filtering through the canvas. It was after dawn. 

He saw his dark visitor sitting up on his blanket leaning his head on drawn up knees. 

“Erestor?”

The ellon straightened and looked at him. His face was still black, but the soot was smudged in places.

“I apologize for my intrusion in your absence, but I did have the need to rest undisturbed as you put it when you invited me.”

Only then did Glorfindel notice a white cloth peaking from the open collar of Erestor’s loose black shirt.   
His left shoulder seemed to be bandaged.

Glorfindel threw off his blanket and made two long paces to kneel at Erestor’s side.

“What happened?”

“An arrow. It only grazed me but it was poisoned.”

“Have you had it treated?”

“Yes, of course.”

Erestor gave him a surprised look and Glorfindel realized that he was slowly rubbing the elbow of Erestor’s injured arm. His palms tingled warmly. He let go, stood up and went to get his outerwear.

Erestor was preparing to get up as well.

“Stay there.”

“My lord…”

Glorfindel turned to him and just shook his head sharply. He brought Erestor a washbasin, pitcher with fresh water, a soap, a washcloth, and two clean towels.

“I will get us something to eat,” he said after depositing everything in front of the staring ellon. He pulled on his cloak and left the tent.

~

Erestor was trying to wash the soot of his face with the provided water and soap but it lingered stubbornly. As always.

He had drank the antidote and cleaned the wound as soon as he got to a safe distance, but even so he had felt the sickness nearly overwhelm him. He had returned to the camp after hours of riding, reported to the king’s adjutant and dragged himself to a healer’s tent. When he had come out the sky was black with heavy clouds and it was raining. He had felt weary and sick and debated if he should return to the healing tent but then he remembered Glorfindel’s invitation. He had curled up in the corner like a beaten dog. Glorfindel hadn’t been there, but he had found himself unable to care for anything else than sleep.

So he was here now, resignedly rubbing at his face with a washcloth and waiting for an ancient lord celebrated in many a song and legend to bring him breakfast to bed. 

It seemed there still were some surprises in store for him.

~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, thank you for your continued support!
> 
> I have been gifted an adorable fanart drawn by Houkakyou :) Please go and take a look: welcometolotr.tumblr.com/post/134089269916/the-sootface-the-two-most-distinguishing-features
> 
> In this chapter I have taken some liberties with the elven languages. I did some research regarding the languages spoken in Gondolin, but didn't come up with a finite answer. So let us just assume that the language Glorfindel knew in his first life is now considered archaic and is no longer spoken.

XI.

Glorfindel returned to his tent after gathering a hefty breakfast. Erestor was seated at the table, brushing his hair. His face was ashen. That particular colour was fortunately caused more by the remaining soot and the weak morning light than by his illness.

Glorfindel deposited their breakfast on the table and laid a gentle hand on Erestor’s bandaged shoulder.

“How is the wound?”

Erestor turned his head slightly to look at the warrior’s hand. The pressure was light, almost nonexistent, but oddly enough he could feel warmth even through the fabric. 

“I redressed it. It looks much improved.”

“That is good to hear.”

Glorfindel drew back. He turned his hand palm up and looked at it. It tingled. 

They ate in silence. Glorfindel could see that Erestor was ravenous but trying to not make himself sick by eating too much too quickly. Glorfindel finished off his share and stood up.

“I must go now. Please rest here. I will return at noon and bring something more to eat.”

Erestor nodded, a mug of hot tea pressed to his sternum. The moment the golden haired warrior left the tent he abandoned all pretence. His shoulders slumped and he decided to just crawl back under the blankets, taking the tea with him.

When Glorfindel returned to his tent with lunch, he again found an ellon-shaped lump of blankets on his floor. He tiptoed closer. Erestor was curled up on his side, obviously asleep. His shoulder rose with deep breaths, only mussed up dark hair and a sliver of ashy forehead were visible above the blanket. Glorfindel didn’t disturb him. He laid the plate he was carrying on the table and left again.

Erestor slept through the whole day, but looked much better in the evening. Glorfindel brought them dinner.

“Would you like some… mmm… oh Valar! How is this called!” Glorfindel waved a bowl of pickles under Erestor’s nose. 

Erestor couldn’t suppress a quiet chuckle earning himself a stormy look from the peeved balrog-slayer. Glorfindel flushed.

“I am sorry. There are still so many things I do not know the words for. It’s so frustrating to not be able to make myself understood! And sometimes I even completely forget myself. The other day I started shouting commands at my soldiers in the old tongue. They looked at me as if I had grown another head.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. If you do not know a word for something, you can always ask. Or say it in the old tongue, I would most probably understand. Although I would grant you that ‘pickles’ is not a word often used in historical texts.”

Glorfindel was taken aback.

“You know the old Quenya?”

“I am able to read most texts in old Quenya and am familiar with the pronunciation, though mostly in theory. I would gladly hear it spoken. However, I do not want to cause you any distress by confusing you even more.”

“How did you learn to read it? For certainly you are not as old as to… I did not think it would be of use to anyone anymore.”

“In that you are mistaken. And to answer your question, languages are a passion to me. I have dedicated much time to study them and read old books on various topics. History, diplomacy, anything really. We live such long lives and yet there are many who have no interest in things past, things that made our race what it is now, put us where we stand. To know the language is often key to get the information you need. That is also why I do what I do now. I have studied languages extensively and am able to communicate with most of our allies in their native tongue, as well as with some of our enemies. Did you think I am spending so much time riding through wilderness and getting shot at of my own volition? I would much rather be dusting books in some library in Lindon than do this. But I was chosen by the king and I consider it my duty to lend my expertise wherever it is most needed.”

Glorfindel looked at Erestor through his long speech in astonishment. The fact that Erestor seemed to be altogether more a scholar by disposition than a soldier surprised Glorfindel greatly. His current calling was a duty to the king, a necessity, not a choice. But Glorfindel himself wasn’t given a choice either.

They then played a game of chess borrowed from Elrond and Glorfindel allowed himself to slip back into his native tongue for at least a moment.

~ 

By that time he knew the falling sensation only too well. He jerked awake shivering and panting, tendrils of golden hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“Peace, my friend. Those are only phantoms of your mind.”

He swallowed dryly. 

“I doesn’t make them any less real.”

“I know.”

Erestor’s strong grip on his forearm was grounding him. He had uncovered the night lantern and it was illuminating the tent by soft yellow light. 

Glorfindel tried to calm his breathing.

“Once I woke up like this and cut my hair before I knew what I was doing. You know, before…”

Erestor nodded and kept looking at him. And Glorfindel wished he could just tell him all that plagued his mind. He stretched his hand and carefully caught a short strand of dark hair between his fingers. There was a question he had meant to ask for some time. 

“Erestor, do you have other friends here?”

Erestor dropped his gaze but didn’t move otherwise.

“I did have friends here... They all lost their lives on the day I lost my braid,” he whispered.

Glorfindel took in a shivering breath, unshed tears stinging his eyes.

“I am sorry...”

“As am I. Lucky the one who has not lived through grief and loss, yet.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“I thank you for your friendship. I will honour it for as long as I can.”

~

Erestor stayed for two more days and then had to leave again.

Soon winter came. 

It then became a normal occurrence for Glorfindel to come to his abode or to wake and find Erestor asleep in his bedroll on the other side of Glorfindel’s small tent after returning from one of his patrols. He was glad that he knew when Erestor was actually in camp and that he was safe for at least a little while. And he was always glad for his company.

Glorfindel felt a bit guilty about letting a guest sleep on the floor, so he suggested a cot to be put there but Erestor refused claiming the tent was small and would unnecessarily get cluttered. The most he would accept was a rolled up mattress waiting for him in the corner.

~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait between updates, work has been very busy lately and I was too tired to write afterwards.  
> Have a short chapter now, I will try to finish the next one as soon as I can.
> 
> (On the plus side, I think I might have to up the rating for the future chapters.)

XII.

The days grew darker. The sky was almost constantly overcast, the clouds unnaturally thick, the landscape often enshrouded by darkness and gloom even during daytime.

The troops moved closer to the enemy. There were battles fought in which both the elven and human troops engaged. Standing at Elrond’s side Glorfindel first saw combat after his return to life. The dark creatures shied away from him, but he killed without mercy, driven by grief of things past and a hope for new life in a world not shadowed by the malevolence of the Enemy.

Erestor was away for long stretches of time, Glorfindel could only guess what his current mission was. He often conversed with Elrond and found a close friend in his lord and charge. 

“Glorfindel, have you seen Erestor?” Elrond asked him one eve when they met before dinner. He knew by then that Erestor was often staying with him.

“To my knowledge, he has not returned yet,” Glorfindel replied frowning. “Why?”

“He is late.” The herald’s brow was dark.

Glorfindel’s heart sped up. Elrond noticed his agitation and tried to placate him, but his face stayed serious. 

“He had a special task. It is possible it took longer than we had anticipated.”

Glorfindel lost all appetite he might have had for evening meal. He roamed around the compound until rain forced him inside. 

The night was spent in fitful sleep. Even the sound of raindrops drumming on the canvas that would otherwise be soothing disturbed him. During the waking moments he gazed sadly at the rolled up mattress and a small bundle with Erestor’s clothes in the corner, only just visible in the weak light of his nightly companion, the shielded lantern.

In the morning it was still drizzling, the ground muddy and slippery. Training was cancelled for the day and Glorfindel took shelter in the command tent, discussing strategic plans and looking outside into the murky haze. 

Erestor returned shortly before noon. His dark mare was limping and it was clear that he himself had trouble staying on her back. Glorfindel saw him nearing and went to help him down. The dark ellon nearly tumbled into his arms. He was soaked to the skin.

“Erestor, are you well?!”

Glorfindel immediately started looking him over, searching for wounds.

Erestor lightly pushed him away with a hand to his shoulder and looked into Glorfindel’s eyes calmly. 

“I am well, just very tired.”

“And drenched. Please come with me, there’s a brazier in my tent. You need to change into something dry.”

“I thank you for your concern, my friend, and your help, but what I must do first is report to the King. I came much too late already, anyway.” 

There was a shadow in his eyes and Glorfindel heard Elrond sigh deeply behind him after Erestor’s last sentence. Glorfindel looked at the herald, then back at the drenched ellon, and was about to argue, but Erestor’s hard glare stayed his words. They already gathered some audience.

“Of course,” he said instead. Duty went first.

The spy asked for his mare to be taken care of, and was about to walk away to see the King. Glorfindel swiftly pulled off his own heavy coat and handed it to him. Erestor turned back in surprise, then inclined his head with a small smile. The warm leather coat and drenched black cloak were exchanged without words. 

Glorfindel was leaving for his tent with a wet black rag in his hand and a relieved smile upon his face.

~


	13. Chapter 13

XIII.

Erestor arrived at Glorfindel’s tent two hours later.

“Thank you for lending it to me, though I am afraid it now also needs drying,” said Erestor taking off Glorfindel’s coat and arranging it carefully to dry on the armor stand. He eyed his own black cloak which was hanging limply on a tent prop.

Glorfindel got up from writing his report.

“You are welcome, my friend. The water in the jug should still be warm. And I took the liberty to lay out some clothes for you to change into.”

“You are most kind, but I think a visit to the bathhouse would be the best option today.”

“Of course,” agreed Glorfindel with a smile.

Erestor gathered the prepared clothes, rolled them into a bundle and left again.

Glorfindel turned back to the table and put his report and quill away. He stood staring at the tabletop for a moment, feeling a bit silly. He hoped he had not overstepped by rummaging in Erestor’s belongings like that. He only wanted to provide some comfort. 

Over the last few weeks he had gradually came to understand that what he felt for Erestor was no longer just friendly concern. He had realized that the need to provide various small favours whenever the king’s informant was in camp was a way to make his regard known. It started with the game. The dark-haired ellon always seemed surprised by the small gestures but accepted them with thanks as he accepted his warm coat only a couple of hours ago. 

Glorfindel promised himself he would go no further until he had some confirmation that his attention was not unwelcome. Luckily, Erestor seemed to be outspoken enough to refuse him if he did indeed overstep the mark. 

He gave one last look to the now clean tabletop and left for the kitchens to ask for a meal to be put together.

~

Erestor looked tired, with his face washed now even more so. He didn’t talk during the meal.

“Can you tell me about your last mission?” Glorfindel finally decided to break the silence, because it was quickly turning from comfortable to oppressive.

“I probably could, but I really do not feel like talking about it any more.”

Glorfindel hummed in sympathy and didn’t press him. He lowered his eyes back to the plate. 

After a moment he heard Erestor take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He looked at him but the green eyes were averted. Suddenly Erestor did start talking.

“I was sent to negotiate with leaders of one of the black clans… I had found out there was a faction of leadership - two sons of the chief, who seemed amiable to the possibility of joining with us against the Enemy. I had been gathering information for quite some time, trying to gauge the situation. I brought it before the King and it was decided to start the negotiation in private. It seemed promising at first. I wouldn’t trust those two as far as I could throw them, they were doing it for their own rise and gain, but that very motivation could have been used to get them where we wanted them, and it could have been very beneficial for us.”

Erestor paused and took a sip of water. No more seemed to be forthcoming, so Glorfindel prompted him gently. 

“What happened?”

Erestor was quiet for a moment longer.

“When I came back for a more official meeting they had promised to arrange, I was presented with their heads impaled on stakes. I was to be taken in front of the chief, who himself had ordered that to be done to his sons. I believe my fate was to be the same treatment. I had to kill the guards to get away... We can be quite sure they won’t join us now.”

Glorfindel nodded solemnly.

“I am glad you made it back.” 

Erestor snorted and glanced at him briefly.

“The mission was a complete failure though. I should have done better. We should have taken longer to negotiate more carefully, but there’s so little time. There’s no time to stall anymore. The battles you fought... it was the beginning of an end! The Enemy must be defeated by any means necessary. I would do anything to...”

Erestor took another deep breath to calm himself and quieted, looking into his plate dejectedly.

Glorfindel wanted to reach out to him but was not sure how. When the silence lengthened again he opted for a distraction.

“Are you still cold?”

“No.”

“Would you like some more meat. Or _pickles_?”

“No, thank you.”

“I could…”

“Stop fussing, Glorfindel. I am as content as I can be.”

The golden-haired warrior deflated slightly, remembering his promise to himself. But then he thought about what Erestor said only a while ago. There was no time anymore. He had been given a new life and it was quite possibly nearing its end again... 

He finished eating in the renewed silence and got up. 

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the bed for you. It is yours for tonight.”

“Glorfindel, I appreciate your kindness, but this really is not necessary.”

“I want you to rest comfortably, at least once.”

Erestor thought to refuse but didn’t find the strength and any words suitable to change the mind of the clearly determined warrior, so he shut his mouth again. He stood up and watched Glorfindel stubbornly keep on changing the sheets.

He tried for the last time.  
“This really is not neces…”

“Erestor, just lie down and rest, for Valar’s sake! Please.”

They stood facing each other for a moment. Erestor then took off a warm robe he borrowed from the bathhouse and obediently climbed in the middle of the bed. Glorfindel sat down on its edge.

“I was worried when Elrond told me you were late,” he whispered.

“I was worried when I watched the battles from a distance and knew you were there.”

Erestor was looking at him with sad tired eyes. Glorfindel reached out and laid his hands on Erestor’s shoulders. He inclined his head, pulled the pliant ellon closer and pressed their brows together, closing his eyes for a moment. He wished he could wrap his arms around him… He let go after a while.

“Sleep well, my friend.”

~


	14. Chapter 14

XIV.

Between the afternoon duties Glorfindel’s thoughts revolved around things his friend had confided to him. He was glad Erestor decided to entrust him with his doubts.

He wondered if Erestor had been rebuked by the King, but he thought not. From what he had seen of Gil-galad, he seemed a reasonable sort and would not expect absolute success of a mission, which from the very beginning had a very small chance to turn out well. Maybe the lack of official reprimand was what made Erestor judge himself so harshly. He drove himself hard and was devoted and loyal to a fault.

He suspected that the description of the spy’s mission was a very simplified version of events, meant only to illustrate the situation for Glorfindel and to explain the perceived failure. The warrior forcibly turned his mind from imagining Erestor’s implied capture. Whatever happened in that camp, he thanked the Valar Erestor freed himself and returned unharmed. It was one thing to go into battle alongside your brothers, but to go alone was another matter altogether, it took a very different kind of courage.

Glorfindel smiled to himself realizing self-deprecatingly how deep his infatuation went. He indeed admired his friend, respected him, and more.

~

When Glorfindel came back to his tent after dinner, the darkness had fallen and the brazier had burned out. He lighted the lantern and saw the dark-haired ellon still asleep in his bed. He came nearer and frowned. Erestor’s eyes were closed. He realized this was the first time he saw Erestor’s face while asleep. Was he always so tired that he slept the deep sleep of the mortals while in the safety of the camp? He knelt down ascertaining that his friend was taking deep calm breaths.

He gazed at Erestor a moment longer and then went to finish writing his report that was due the next day. Why a written report was needed in times like this was beyond him, but he had lived through much superfluous ceremony and useless bureaucratic maneuvering in his former life to be surprised by this.

After he finished writing he leaned back in the chair and his mind began to wander again. His eye fell on the game he created and he signed. They had not played for quite some time… He had long decided to gift the game to Erestor. He wondered what Erestor’s game collection looked like, he hoped to see it one day.

Erestor had said the war was nearing its end. What end would that be? If they were to be defeated by the Enemy would it be the end of all things? Surely the Valar would not let that happen. Would they…? 

After being returned he had thought it was no longer his world, no longer his fight. He had been wrong. He now wanted to stay, wanted to live. He would fight for it. He did not want it to end now, he wanted to grasp the chance he had been given.

His thoughts were turning melancholy. Glorfindel got up. It would be better to stop thinking altogether and take some rest, and hope that reverie would bring better images. 

He briefly washed and changed into his sleeping attire, debating where he should sleep. He was about to unroll Erestor’s mattress when he heard a quiet rustle. Turning he saw that the dark green eyes were now open and very much aware. The rustle he had heard was Erestor shifting to one side in the bed.

They were looking at each other in the semi-darkness. Glorfindel hesitated only for a moment, for the signal was as clear as a pair of open arms. He grabbed a spare blanket from the little pile of Erestor’s belongings and crossed the tent in two strides. He first knelt on the side of the bed and then carefully lowered himself into the vacated space.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Glorfindel didn't ramble too much :)  
> Happy New Year! Thanks for staying with me.


	15. Chapter 15

XV.

Glorfindel lay down facing Erestor, the space still warm where the dark-haired ellon had lain before. He covered himself with the spare blanket, carefully so as not to push or poke Erestor, for the bed was not large and Glorfindel was rather bulky for an elf. 

The spy was still looking at him silently. In a fit of boldness the warrior reached out and enveloped one of the slender long-fingered hands in his palm. There was no resistance, Erestor’s fingers only closed slightly. 

Glorfindel watched Erestor’s eyes slowly losing their focus. This time they stayed open, though he had clearly fallen asleep again. Glorfindel’s own need for a peaceful reverie had abated along with the melancholy thoughts. He wished to stay in the present, the reality so much more peaceful now than it had seemed just a while ago.

He did not sleep much, only dozed lightly. Partly he was afraid he could wake or even hurt Erestor if a nightmare chose to plague him that night, and partly he just wanted to watch, and maybe dream without a reverie.

The bed was rather narrow, it was quite possible the other could fall out if he turned... He had to put one arm around Erestor’s waist to prevent it and save some space. Well, not as much as had to. He had wanted to, but he did not dare to touch his friend any other way. 

During the night Erestor snuggled closer to him and leant his brow on Glorfindel’s collarbone. 

~

Erestor was used to orient himself immediately upon waking. His life often depended on this ability. So when he woke up he knew well enough who was lying next to him, holding him close, breathing deeply into his hair, whose heartbeat he listened to through the night. 

He felt well rested, comfortable. The covers clean and soft. A warm body next to his, a heavy arm holding him around the waist. Not something he was used to. What he was used to was a damp bedroll over stony floor and a fear of having his throat sliced if he so much as allowed his mind to enter a much needed reverie, and that only if he were very lucky.

A tendril of golden hair tickled his cheek. Snuggled to the broad chest he didn’t wish to move. 

Erestor well remembered Glorfindel’s tender gesture from the evening before. He sneaked his hand from the nest of blankets and embraced the solid chest. He felt the muscular arm tighten around him in answer. Glorfindel was awake.

He didn’t know how long they lay like that. When they did get up, shyly averting their gazes, it was after dawn.

“Thank you, my friend, for the comfort you have given me.”

“And I thank you, Erestor. Please know you are always welcome.”

“I will see you next week.”

He wished he wouldn’t have to leave.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer, I promise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, let me say that you are all wonderful. I never thought my first ever story here would get so many readers. I also never thought I would be able to write something longer than 3 pages. You guys made it possible. So thank you.
> 
> Don't worry. This is not my "The End" speech, we still have a few chapters to go. I just thought I should say it, because I keep getting nice comments from you and it pleases me very much and keeps me going :) 
> 
> So, let's see what happens next...

XVI.

They did not see each other the following week. Nor the week after that. 

The war was indeed getting into its final stage, the allied armies steadily pushing the Enemy back, though not without losses. Glorfindel got an arrow through his thigh but the wound was clean and healed quickly.

Finally there came a lull in fighting, the Enemy basically besieged in his fortress. 

Elrond invited them for a game night once again. Glorfindel brought the game he had created. He wanted to play it at least one more time. 

Erestor won the first round. 

Glorfindel was sipping his wine and frowning.

“What bothers you, my friend? Surely not your defeat?” asked Elrond, lifting his eyes from where he was piling up the game tokens.

“The morale. The soldiers are bored and restless.”

Elrond nodded and waited for the warrior to continue.

“I was thinking we could do a little sparring tournament or competition, nothing too exhausting. Maybe it would help.”

“That is a very good idea, Glorfindel. Boredom is the worst enemy in the safety of a camp.”

“Yes, that it is indeed.”

“Well then, it is agreed. I will call for my adjutant right away to organize the event two days hence.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Thank you, Elrond.”

The herald stood up and strode to the entrance of his tent. 

Glorfindel turned to the last member of their game circle. “Erestor, you could participate too.”

“I am afraid I do not have the time to participate in the whole tournament.”

“Just one round then. With me?”

“Yes, I would spar with you if you wish it. I hope you do not mean to include a target practice competition. I am abysmal with a bow, cannot hit the flat side of a barn.”

“No target practice. Bow is not my prefered weapon either. What would be the weapon of your choice then, Erestor?”

“I prefer the staff.”

“Like the one you wear on your back? That is more of a stick if you pardon me saying that. It is rather short,” Glorfindel chuckled pouring himself more wine. 

Erestor narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, it might seem so, but you should know appearances may be deceiving. It is collapsible. Can also be divided in two. It is a piece of art really. A most useful gift,” Erestor nodded to Elrond who had just come back.

“I am glad it serves you well, my friend.”

~

The sparring competition had been scheduled and was eagerly anticipated. It had been decided to allow only wooden training weapons to prevent any serious injury. Elrond’s adjutant even managed to conjure up prices for the winners, mostly items of personal comfort or rare foodstuff. 

Glorfindel acted as a referee for the first half of the competition. After the winners received their awards, there was to come a moment awaited by many, when their Captain would leave the referee seat and take up his sword himself. And so when Glorfindel finally entered the training field with a wooden sword in one hand and a reinforced bracer on the other, he was met with much cheering from his soldiers. Erestor entered from the other side dressed in his customary black garment. He was carrying a wooden staff. The cheering changed into chatter. 

The match was began. 

For a moment they just circled each other, observing. Glorfindel made an experimental lunge and was parried. He made several more trying to gauge Erestor’s fighting style, for he had never seen him fight before. He was deflected every time, their weapons making sharp hollow sounds when they met. 

The staff technique was completely new to Glorfindel and there was only one way to get to know it better. Stop the testing and just fight.

Erestor was fast, very fast. Glorfindel was expertly held no closer than the point of his staff, and had already received a few not very gentle pokes from its ends. 

“You insult me, Captain. There is no need to hold back,” the spy admonished the warrior after blocking another of his attacks.

Glorfindel’s lips curled up in a savage smile revealing strong white teeth.

“As you wish.”

Their sparring then turned into a vicious fight. 

Erestor almost managed to trip the reborn hero and Glorfindel repaid him by an onslaught of heavy hits that forced the spy back. Glorfindel could overpower him by brute strength and he knew it. 

They had gathered quite an audience. Most of the soldiers cheered for their Captain, but there were a few who knew Erestor by sight and started to chant: “Soothface!” A panting Glorfindel shouted at them in mock anger: “You traitors! You will be mucking the stables for months to come,” earning a round of laughter.

Erestor made use of the distraction and nearly broke through the warrior’s defence, being deflected by his bracer only in the last moment.

Glorfindel decided to use his strength fully. He had seen enough to know that Erestor could take it… It turned out that he indeed could... but the training staff could not. Glorfindel had hit the staff with such force that it cracked in the middle. Erestor jumped back with lightning speed emitting a strained grunt.

Glorfindel was about to stop the match, so Erestor could fetch another weapon, but the dark-haired ellon broke his staff completely with a precise kick and smiled at him toothily. What seemed a disadvantage at first Glorfindel now regarded with apprehension, for Erestor suddenly faced him with two 'swords', something we was probably used to from what Glorfindel recalled of his commentary about his staff.

“An yrch would not wait for me to go and get another weapon, would they?”

Until then he had only seen Erestor’s fierce and unyielding spirit show during their game night, now he saw its physical manifestation.

Erestor lost some of the reach, but not the speed. After many failed attempts Glorfindel finally managed to disarm him of one half of his former staff, to the cheers of the gathered soldiers.

They finished on a draw, weapon to the other’s neck. Both barely standing, panting heavily, and grinning at each other.

~


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continuing support and sorry for the late update. Lately, I've been too brain-tired from work to write in the evening. 
> 
> (I'm also a little bit sorry for the cliffhanger I'm now presenting you with... or maybe I'm not :D )

XVII.

The other half of the tournament was to take place in the afternoon and was to be refereed by one of Glorfindel’s fellow captains. Glorfindel was glad, because the fight with Erestor did tire him considerably. It had also woken feelings of excitement that were not solely caused by the physical exertion. His blood was boiling, his emotions running high.

He knew how strong the bonds between brothers in arms could become. He was aware that all reason could often be lost in the heat of a battle, or afterwards, but he was sure this was not the case. When they had rested together on that night he could feel his very soul straining to touch Erestor’s. He had woken up in the morning with Erestor in his arms and had not been able to make himself let go. Then Erestor had embraced him back and Glorfindel had thought his heart would burst with joy.

After the match they went to wash with the other participants. Glorfindel couldn’t help staring at his half clad friend, feeling his cheeks heat. He had seen Erestor changing his clothes several times during their cohabitation in his tent. The spy was lean and lithe, muscular in a sinewy way, his skin very fair. He had seen that. But now he wanted to touch as well.

They returned to Glorfindel’s tent to eat their lunch and rest a while, for Erestor had a meeting with the King later and Glorfindel intended to return to watch the rest of the tournament. Over the meal they talked about their match, in turn praising each other’s abilities. The meal eaten, the excitement of the fight wearing off, their smiles turned pensive. They sipped wine and sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts.

Erestor finished up his goblet and stood up.

“I wish I could stay longer, but I must take my leave now.”

Glorfindel, as if woken from a dream, looked at him with eyes wide and face suddenly anxious.

“Erestor…”

“Yes?”

Glorfindel got up too and stepped towards him, stopping just a pace from the surprised spy, who stood there watching him and waiting for him to continue.

How much time would he have to tell his friend that he had fallen hopelessly in love with him and thought their souls were destined to be joined? Was there still time? If it were the old him, he would just grab Erestor, pull him close and kiss him. He used to be impulsive, acting on the spur of the moment, forceful at times. Before… 

But now he searched the other's face, unable to say a word, looking for a sign that his affection was not unwelcome.

There was no time.

Glorfindel made a step forward, gently grasping Erestor by the elbows. He slowly leaned in and… took a breath, bit his lip, looked into Erestor’s eyes again hoping not to find fear or revulsion there.

And then he kissed him...

... and Erestor kissed him back.

~


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my body is trying to hibernate, because I don't know why I would be so permanently sleepy otherwise. This state doesn't help the writing process, at all.
> 
> I am afraid you guys might start to hate me before you like me again. Prepare yourselves.

XVIII. 

Glorfindel kissed slowly and carefully with lips slightly parted, gradually pulling the other to him. He felt arms wrapping around his shoulder and neck and signed into the kiss. The lips under his were soft and invitingly parted, tasted of wine and any delight Glorfindel ever wished for.

They separated after a while and Glorfindel rested their brows together, feeling his soul fluttering in bliss. He pecked Erestor’s lips again, kissed his cheek, temple and the tip of his ear, burying his face in Erestor’s neck and holding him tight.

They stayed like that until the frantic beating of their hearts slowed down.

“Just a few hours ago you were trying to beat me with a stick,” Erestor whispered hoarsely.

Glorfindel recognized it for what it was - an awkward attempt to say something. He smiled against Erestor’s cheek and kissed it again.

“And you me with two,” he chuckled breathily.

He could feel Erestor’s slender fingers stroking his nape in soothing little circles, and he decided to let them continue, although he wished to pull them to his lips and reward them for their ministrations with kisses.

“I gave you a few bruises.”

“So did I to you.”

Glorfindel loosened his hold to look Erestor in the eyes. He stroked Erestor’s cheek and then kissed him again. 

Erestor sighed, keeping his eyes shut. When he finally opened them, they were averted. 

“I… I have to go,” he whispered.

Glorfindel frowned, his heartbeat picking up speed in alarm. Then he remembered Erestor’s obligations and allowed himself to hate the King for just a little moment.

Erestor rubbed his nose along Glorfindel’s cheek and kissed the corner of his lips.

“The meeting will most probably continue into the night. Please don’t wait up.”

Glorfindel nodded and let him go, though reluctantly. 

He stood there looking at the long closed tent flap, his world shaken.

~

Erestor walked to the command tent keeping his head bowed and his eyes purposefully on the ground. He felt the heat in his cheeks and the puffiness of his lips, and did not wish for anyone to see it. 

He was grateful for the brisk wind that cooled his face while he walked and helped him focus, just as he was grateful that there were others at the meeting and that his input was not immediately required, for he had trouble paying attention at first.

As he had predicted the meeting continued well into the night. The matters discussed were of enough grave importance to take his mind off of the stolen moment of affection, though for the whole time he felt as if a part of him was missing. 

When he returned to the tent, the moon was high, its light struggling through the heavy dark clouds. He found Glorfindel sleeping peacefully, precariously balanced to one side of his bed with the blanket turned down on the other. Erestor was reminded of the situation when they had last shared the bed, and he smiled, touched by the gesture.

He noiselessly changed into his sleeping clothes and sat on the bed. He was about to lie down when he felt a strong arm wrapping tightly around his waist and dragging him back. He tensed, muscles locking against the pull, his first impulse to flee. 

The arm loosened immediately.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” was the whispered apology.

“You nearly earned yourself a few more bruises,” he answered gravely, turning to Glorfindel. He didn’t mean to speak so harshly, but he was... frightened. There was no other word for it. Frightened by what was happening between them all of a sudden. He had first meant to lie down with his back to Glorfindel to save space, but feeling uneasy he now lay down facing him.

He could hear Glorfindel taking a breath, probably in preparation to apologize further. He quickly reached out and brought the warrior’s hand to his lips, kissing it in reconciliation. He shuffled closer to the sleep-warm body.

“Let us sleep now.”

~ 

The morning came too soon and brought a closeness of bodies entwined during sleep and of souls reaching out to each other. They kissed, on the lips, cheeks and brow, eyelids and hair.

Glorfindel whispered, “Dearest,” into Erestor’s ear.

They said their farewells when the sky was still grey.

“Take care.”

“And you.”

~

Their time run out sooner than they had expected, for that had been the last night they spent together in the safety of the camp. Erestor left and the army started moving again in a few days. Glorfindel saw the spy very briefly a few times, coming and going, but never had the opportunity to do more than greet him. Sometimes not even that.

When they finally marched for what Glorfindel knew would be the final battle, he caught himself wishing their souls were bound, so he would find Erestor should they both be called to Mandos’ halls.

Though Glorfindel knew his heart intent to be true, it was too early for them. 

And too late for everything.

~


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Don't worry, I have not forgotten you, I am just that slow and this chapter was very hard to write. (And not only because of all the past perfect. Do let me know it if doesn't make sense somewhere.)   
> So apologies for the delay and for any sad feels this chapter may cause you, because as we agreed I am indeed a terrible person.
> 
> Also, I might have inadvertently created an OC. Do we keep her? What's her name? Let me know what you think.

XIX.

The Enemy was defeated. The High King dead. 

The elven armies and the army of men had fought side by side against Sauron’s hordes. Now many lay injured and dying, friends and foes intermingled. There was an eerie silence on the field of battle, broken only by cries of gathering scavenger birds. 

The battle had been won. Now there was time to pick up the pieces left in its wake. Yet, among the destruction there was a sense of victory if dearly bought. The hope for future that had been made possible by the sacrifice of many.

The living and able knew no rest. Whole units still stood in readiness to guard against any remaining enemies, others were searching, separating and carrying the wounded towards quickly erected camps. Carts from the rear bases were going back and forth with supplies for healers, water, food and fuel. 

Towards the evening the sky opened up, dousing flames, further muddying the trampled earth.

Glorfindel turned his face up and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the rain cool his hot cheeks. He felt sick at heart and feared of being sick in body. The terror of all battles he had fought in, those he didn’t even remember, the one he had once died in, and this one mingling together and wearing him down, so that he wanted to curl up and shiver and cry like an elfling. The famous elflord, the balrog slayer. 

He came through the carnage with only minor injuries, nothing which could not wait to be taken care of later. He helped where he could and breathed through bouts of sickness when they came upon him. 

He had fulfilled the duty entrusted to him by the Valar. Elrond was safe. Now he had to fulfill a duty to another, one entrusted to him by himself. Find Erestor.

When the final battle had come, Erestor had taken his rightful place in the king’s guard. The most dangerous place he could have been, but the same could be said about Glorfindel's own place by Elrond's side. After engaging the enemy, Glorfindel had lost sight of Erestor altogether.

From afar Glorfindel had seen the High King stand up to the Enemy. By that time the king’s company had long been separated. Gil-galad's end had been terrible to behold, the ancient warrior's soul had shivered in fright, the memory of fire on his own skin surfacing. He had guarded Elrond’s back, when his lord had, after witnessing the same, gone madly charging to his fallen king not looking left nor right. Thus he had missed to see the Enemy fall by Isildur’s hand. The wave of evil rage that had rushed across the battlefield afterwards had nearly toppled him by its intensity and left him gasping for breath, for it had seemed as if all air had been sucked out from the place for a moment.

Where was Erestor? How should he ask if anyone had seen him? There were so many, still being brought from the field of battle… Did anyone even know him by name? Have you seen the Sootface, the black-clad one, the king’s spy? 

And he dreaded the answer. He breathed through it.

Then a realization came upon him, one he would kick himself for not thinking of earlier.

“Members of the king’s guard, have you found any?” he demanded of those he met. The armor of the King’s guard was a distinctive one, Gil-galad’s sigil proudly displayed on chest and pauldrons. 

And he found him...

Erestor had been laid by the stretcher bearers near one of the healing tents. Heavy droplets of rain were splashing over his bruised face, washing blood away in bizarre rivulets. Next to him lay a cooling body of another guard, his lifeless eyes staring at the darkening sky.

Glorfindel fell to his knees beside Erestor and feverishly searched for any signs that the heart under the dirtied star-covered armour plate was still beating. It was. He shouted for a healer but when after much fussing one came, she bent over the unconscious form for a moment and then moved away. Briefly she bent again to the other guard and closed his eyes.

“Leave him, my lord,” she said tightly. “There are many others we can still help, but not this one.”

He would not believe he was still able to feel anything after the last few days, but the rush of fury the healer’s answer roused in him nearly choked him. He sprung to his feet and was about to yell at the elleth, but then a rational part of his mind stayed him and he took another few deep breaths. 

Silently he knelt down again and gently picked up the insensate body of the one who had made his return to life bearable, and walked away.

While he walked with his tender burden, thoughts as dark as the clouded night sky weighted on his mind. Was this the end of his task? Would he be called back now? Was his only purpose to protect the grandchild of his former king and his only reward to lose everything once again? Were Valar this cruel, or was it a reflection of the cruelty of their own brother Morgoth? He never asked to be returned, never wished to be taken away from the pleasant numbness of Mandos’ halls. Never wished to have his soul made aware again only to be torn to pieces. 

He laid Erestor down under a temporary shelter erected to shield the wounded and those tending them from the rain. There were lamps placed to provide enough light. He did not ask anybody anymore and took what he needed, while there was still what to take. Bandages, water, herbs, scissors and pliers.

He cut and peeled away the armour and chainmail, the padding and cloth … and tucked into Erestor’s shirt he found a gently curling strand of golden hair bound with a strip of leather and attached to a thin cord around Erestor’s neck. 

Glorfindel’s own hair. Whenever had he cut it? Glorfindel breathed deeply through his nose. 

He divested the unconscious ellon of his armor and clothes, and briefly put an ear to his chest. He was still stubbornly clinging to life despite the numerous injuries Glorfindel could now see. 

The cloth he used to wash the wounds with left dark red swirls in the basin of water. They soon spread and dyed the water red. He forgot all and lost himself in thoroughly cleaning and bandaging the cuts and gashes in the fair skin.

When he finished he finally looked up. All nearby cots that he could see were occupied. He looked towards the cart with supplies but it was empty now. There were no more blankets to be had. 

He was loath to cover Erestor with his muddied cloak, but decided it might be better than nothing. Then somebody nudged his shoulder. The same elleth who had pronounced Erestor beyond hope was standing above him, wordlessly offering a thick blanket. He took it. Her hand briefly brushed his and he felt how wrinkly her small fingers were. Wounds of how many she had washed that day? His own hands itched and smarted. Before he could look into her face, she turned from him, gathered the bloodied rags and the basin, and carried it away.

Spreading the blanket on the ground, Glorfindel carefully lifted Erestor and laid him on it. He tucked him in as best he could. He lingered over him for a moment just listening to the quiet rasping breath.

He was more worn out that he remembered to ever had been. He kissed Erestor’s brow and lay down at his side, praying to the Valar to take his fea back rather than let him wake in the morrow next to a cold body.

Unknown to the exhausted warrior, tendrils of pale golden light were flowing from his old soul, probing the other’s wounds, sealing them and nurturing the tissue, caressing like a gentle lover’s touch.

~


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see. I’m very sorry about that. It was an involuntary absence, my computer has crashed :(  
> Luckily I had nearly finished saving for a new one, so I was able to get it fairly quickly… and then I had to return it for repairs because it was faulty. So now I am sad, penniless and computerless too. I am actually posting this chapter from my 9 years old wheezing granny of a laptop. 
> 
> On another note, I decided I like the OC, I will keep her for a little while longer. She still has no name. Also, I am experimenting with the POVs, I don’t know how successful my experiments are. Elrond decided he wants his POV too, but it’s a bit out of place, me thinks. Let me know what you think.

XX.

Glorfindel woke up dizzy and disoriented. He blinked and closed his eyes, trying to appease his hurting head. 

His body ached and his clothing felt cold and damp. Only his pounding head was tucked into a warm nook. He tried to snuggle closer before reality started creeping in. His bleary eyes opened and focused. It was light enough to be past dawn. He lay on bare ground, cheek resting on a fold of blanket... next to Erestor’s bandaged shoulder. 

He sat up abruptly and gasped. That was not a good move. His head felt about to burst and his stomach turned a somersault. He had to breath through the nausea for a moment and concentrate on finding his balance. 

He looked around. There was a canvas roof over his head. Cots and bedrolls were placed in rows under it and several elves were nearby tending to those lying on them.

He exhaled slowly and turned to his left.

Erestor’s eyes were closed and his face very pale except for the dark bruise sprawling over his forehead and temple around a gash Glorfindel had carefully cleaned the night before. It scabbed well.

Glorfindel leant over him finding his courage. He touched his cheek to Erestor’s, holding his breath.

Erestor’s cheek was not exactly warm but not cold either. He held a little longer and felt an almost imperceptible flutter of an exhale and then another one tickling his own cheek. No fever then, and definitely there. Glorfindel sighed in relief, his lips curling into a smile. He let his cheek rest lightly against Erestor’s for a moment longer and before withdrawing he turned a little and let his lips brush against the corner of Erestor’s mouth. 

Erestor’s breathing was calm and deeper than before, his ribs seemed to have aligned well. Glorfindel had not been able to tell if they were cracked or just bruised the night before.

He untucked the blanket, regretting having to expose Erestor to the morning cold, and checked the bandages. There did not seem to be any infection or swelling which surprised him. The cuts were clean, closed and scabbed over.

“You are doing very well,” he whispered hunched over Erestor’s prone form. Maybe the night before, scared and depressed, he had seen everything graver than it really was. Erestor was not out of the woods yet, but he seemed to be healing. 

Glorfindel was loath to leave Erestor but his duty lay elsewhere, and Erestor would be the first one to remind him of that. He had done what he could and rested here too long. Now he had to leave, go find Elrond, help him and others. 

He stroked Erestor’s short hair and tucked the blanket carefully around him, so he would stay warm. Elves usually didn’t feel the cold, only when exhausted or injured. Erestor was now both and Glorfindel wished to provide as much comfort as he could.

When he stood up to leave, his head spun and he had to catch himself against a nearby tent-pole. His stomach turned and rumbled sadly. First stop would have to be the provisions tent. He needed to eat something to get his strength back. 

Glorfindel looked around for a healer to instruct about Erestor. There she was, her again. She saw him look at her and came closer.

Glorfindel tried for a smile. “I must leave. Would you please care for him in my absence?”

“I will,” she looked as if she wanted to say something more, but kept silent.

His duty was tearing him in two again. He went in search of Elrond with Erestor ever-present in his mind.

~

Erestor woke up in stages. His mind was only slowly finding its way to consciousness. 

Breathing hurt. Every inhale as a stab under his ribs. Throbbing pain in his abdomen and hip. He tried to curl up but his limbs felt like lead. He couldn’t move. Panic squeezed his insides and he slid back into the peace and quiet of unconsciousness.

Next time he woke more fully and he realized that it was a heavy cloth wrapped around him that was obstructing his movements. His throat felt dry and scratchy. He tried to open his eyes but after the light stabbed into them through the squinted lids he abandoned the attempt. 

His mind was still partly asleep and his memory foggy. He lay quietly letting his head clear. It all came to him after a while. 

Gil-galad’s death. He had seen it.

When the King had fallen, Erestor himself had already been on the ground faint with pain. He had tried to get up, but got only so far as his hands and knees. He had been close to the King but not close enough to do anything had he been able to stand. Gil-galad’s body had burnt to cinder in a blink of an eye. He could only watch paralyzed with horror, blood flowing into his eyes from broken skin on his forehead. He had seen Elrond rushing toward the place closely followed by a broad shouldered warrior whose blade cut down without mercy all that dared to threaten the frantic herald. Erestor had stared mesmerized at the warm golden glow that seemed to emanate from the warrior until black spots clouded his vision. Then some unseen force had thrown Erestor down and he must have had lost consciousness. 

He tried to shift to a more comfortable position. A pitiful groan escaped him further irritating his throat and he gasped and started coughing.

Almost immediately there were light steps nearby. A hand slid under his neck and lifted his head slightly.

“Drink.” 

Soft voice of an elleth. Warm rim of a cup pressed to his lips and tipped. The liquid was tepid and had no taste. Water. 

“I cannot give you anything for the pain. I am sorry.” 

He hummed, breathed in and out and took another sip from the cup that was still held at his lips. Cautiously he opened his eyes a little.

He now knew where he was. A healing tent. After the battle. Did they win? They must have had or he wouldn’t be here. He would be lying in mud somewhere near the smouldering remains of his King, being trampled on by celebrating hordes of the Enemy.

He tried to move but couldn’t, the blanket was tucked too snugly. 

The elleth kneeling at his side saw him struggle. The cup was taken away and the blanket was loosened.

“He swaddled you like a babe.”

Erestor tried to frown and winced. There was a scab on his forehead and it pulled at his skin. It seemed the elleth interpreted his expression right, though. She smiled gently.

“The golden-haired lord. He brought you here, tended to your wounds. Kept fussing with the blanket.”

Erestor’s heart sped up, blood painfully beating in his temples further waking his fuzzy mind. Glorfindel? Had it been him? Was he unscathed? 

Erestor was about to reach his healthy hand toward his neck when he realized he did not have to. What he sought was in his palm already. It ticked a little. His hand closed around the pendant, the scab on his knuckles pulling. 

If it was indeed Glorfindel who had treated his wounds, he must have had to remove it from around Erestor’s neck to bandage his wounds and had put it into his palm instead. The cord was loosely wrapped around his wrist. 

He felt heat creep into his face, embarrassed that the warrior had seen and had no doubt recognized it. Erestor had cut the hair the second night they had rested together. When morning had been near he reached for one of the knives secreted in his nearby lying clothes and had selfishly taken for himself a thin strand from the beautiful golden mane that had once sealed the warrior’s fate, and tucked it close to his heart.

It did not matter now what Glorfindel might have thought about it. They had both come through alive and all would be resolved in its own time.

The healer interpreted his expression more pragmatically this time.

“Do you need to relieve yourself?”

“... yes,” he rasped, the blush returning promptly into his cheeks.

She nodded and went away. An ellon came to help him.

~

Glorfindel met Elrond walking through the temporary encampment. Elrond's eyes were tired and full of pain. Glorfindel came up to his lord and without thinking of propriety embraced him briefly, clasping his shoulder. 

They both knew what had transpired. There were no words needed to address their grief. What did need to be addressed was the immediate future of all that were now under Elrond’s command. They talked long and seriously, sat on empty casks in their mud-splattered clothes. What a picture they made, thought Glorfindel wryly. Two other captains left from the high command soon joined them. While listening to their reports Glorfindel nibbled a piece of bread he had obtained. 

When the most urgent issues had been addressed, plans made and orders given, Glorfindel stood up and stretched. Elrond stood up too.

“I shall make my rounds around the healing tents now,” he announced.

Glorfindel ceased in the middle of his stretching and turned to Elrond abruptly.

“Elrond, … I know it is selfish to ask but could you spare a moment first to come take a look at Erestor?” he pleaded earnestly.

“Erestor? Where is he?”

“I brought him to one of the healing tents.”

“You have found him? I thought…” Elrond briefly looked away frowning, but then the corners of his lips lifted slightly. “Lead the way.”

“I did what I could for him yesterday. His wounds were severe. I was afraid he would not make it through the night.” When Glorfindel spoke there was a lump in his throat that came with the memory of past despair. “Yet, he proved me wrong.”

Elrond smiled, “He is stubborn that way.”

When they came to the temporary tent where Glorfindel had left the dark-haired spy, the blanket cocoon … was not there. A cold shiver run down his back and he took in a shaky breath.

An ellon came up to them, bowing to Elrond. One of the healers Glorfindel had seen around in the morning. 

Instead of a greeting, Glorfindel just dumbly waved to the place where ...

“We have moved your friend to a cot, my lord. Right there.”

Glorfindel blinked and without a word immediately strode in the indicated direction. He did indeed find Erestor lying on one of the cots that must have been... vacated... during the morning.

~

“Did he wake?” Elrond asked the healer.

“Yes, briefly. We moved him, redressed his wounds and helped him fall into a healing sleep again.”

Elrond nodded and followed Glorfindel. He walked more slowly, looking around at the wounded he was passing. When he looked at the occupant of the cot by which Glorfindel was now kneeling, he knew how Erestor had survived the night.

"Have you been with him through the night?"

Glorfindel glanced up, clearly surprised by the question. "Yes. I am a bit embarrassed to say but I went out like a light after I finished tending to his wounds. Woke up by his side."

Elrond hummed in acquiescence and knelt down too. He looked at their mutual friend with the eyes of an experienced healer and could see a shimmer of light, a pale golden glow enveloping the slumbering ellon, lingering like an ephemeral protective cocoon.

“Glorfindel, you have considerable healing powers. Are you aware?”

Glorfindel’s face showed only confusion. “I’ve never been any good at healing.”

“Then it seems the Valar have granted you the power upon your rebirth.”

Glorfindel glared at his hands frowning. When Elrond looked up from examining Erestor, the confusion on the golden-haired ellon’s face seemed to have cleared and realization set in.

“You have experienced it before,” Elrond stated.

“I think so.”

“When?”

“Erestor came to my tent with a graze from a poisoned arrow. And… for some reason I felt an urge to, well… touch his arm perhaps more than might have been considered appropriate. Afterwards my palms felt... as if lightly sunburnt.”

Elrond chuckled quietly, nodding.

“Could I help others, Elrond?”

“That is a difficult question, my friend. I should probably say yes, because we now need any healer we can get. But that is exactly why I will say no, because you are not a healer. You are not trained. You had no knowledge of what you were doing, most likely, you acted only on instinct. Also, I can see that you are considerably weakened. You have given him a lot of your strength. Have you even had somebody see to your wounds?”

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head. “There was nothing worth mentioning. Will he be well?”

“Yes, he will recover in time.”

“Thank you. And thank the Valar.”

~

They both stood up. Glorfindel staggered as soon as he tried to make a step, catching his balance at the last moment.

“Take care of your not-worth-mentioning wounds and eat something more substantial than a piece of dry bread!” ordered Elrond sharply.

“Yes, my lord,” answered the startled warrior automatically, only then noticing the twinkle in Elrond’s eyes.

The already familiar elleth healer came up to Elrond. “My lord, could I bother you for a moment? I need your advice on some cases.” Elrond nodded to Glorfindel and left with her.

Glorfindel gave a last glance to Erestor before he too left the healing tent. Elrond needed him up and about, a shining example, a leader, not a dirty vagrant who couldn’t even remember where he had left his armor the day before.

~


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. You might have started to doubt it, but I am indeed still here. Thank you for staying with me and thanks for your well-wishes. My computer troubles are more or less solved, I've only started to hate Windows 10 with a vengeance.
> 
> I wasn't able to get myself back in the mood to continue the story after I got the computer back. Some sort of writer's block, or I just grew apart from the story, who knows. I hope to return to it and finally finish it.
> 
> If you have any suggestions about what you'd like to see happen, let me know. I have a certain plan and some parts almost ready, but I could definitely use some tips :)

XXI.

A full day had gone by until Glorfindel allowed himself to take a little time off from his duties and go visit Erestor. A day he had spent in meetings with the elven lords, organizing, planning, and putting the plans in motion. 

He had talked to soldiers, had been the leader they needed him to be, the example, the fabled hero of days long past. Anything, if it gave them strength to carry on through the aftermath of the fight for the continued existence of their race upon the shores of Middle Earth. 

Mandos had taken many to his halls. Many others would follow them there, fading from grief. Some would leave over the sea to await the return of their loved ones in Aman. The rest would stay and face what future held in store for them. Glorfindel had to stay, he had been ordered by the Valar to do so. He hoped he would not come to loath his predicament.

When he came to the healing tent, Erestor was asleep, and Glorfindel could see it was not a peaceful reverie. The purple bruise was still marring almost a half of his friend’s face. Glorfindel sat down next to the cot quietly and sat there for a while resting and trying to overcome his disappointment that Erestor was not in any state to talk to. He reached out and stroked the back of Erestor’s hand a few times, and nearly dozed off himself. Erestor calmed but did not wake.

~

Glorfindel came the next day as well. He carried a small bundle.

This time Erestor was awake, which was a joyful sight for Glorfindel, although he would prefer another expresion on his friend’s face. The dark-haired spy was lying on his cot and staring rather dejectedly into space.

Glorfindel put on a smile and stepped into Erestor’s line of vision.

The deep green eyes focused on the warrior. 

“Glorfindel…”

“Erestor.”

Erestor stared at him for a moment, seemingly lost for words, but then his voice returned to him: “ I am delighted to see you are well. I owe you a debt of gratitude for your care.”

So grave and so polite. And somebody obviously told him, who had brought him here.

“Erestor, you owe me nothing. I did it for purely selfish reasons,” Glorfindel pointed out deadpan. 

He first thought that he might have overstepped judging from Erestor’s startled expression, but then it morphed into a slightly embarrassed little smile.

“Are you feeling better?” said Glorfindel sitting down on the edge of the cot.

“Yes.”

For a moment there was silence. Erestor was looking at him shyly, faint blush creeping into his cheeks. He brought his unhurt hand from under the blanket and opened his palm turning it so Glorfindel could see what was in it.

“You have seen this, I believe. I apologize for taking such liberty.”

Glorfindel’s heart sped up.

“Don't. You don't know how much I wished I had had the same idea.”

Erestor averted his eyes, suddenly very interested in the hem of his blanket. 

Glorfindel disconcerted by the reaction hesitated to ask for a strand of black hair in return. When he finally plucked up the courage and was about to do so, Erestor changed the topic abruptly.

“Would you mind filling me in on some things that happened after I… I was told that the Enemy fell by the hand of Isildur...”

“Yes, that is indeed so.”

“How was it when… What happened when the Ring was destroyed?”

“Um…” here Glorfindel floundered. “They have not destroyed it.”

“What?” Erestor whispered incredulously, his gaze returning to Glorfindel.

“Isildur has kept it,” said Glorfindel tightly. 

Erestor stared at him. The blush was gone. He turned pale and his expression morphed into a cold mask. He clenched his fists, unknowingly crushing the golden pendant in one of them and breaking the scabs on his knuckles.

“If he refused to give up the Ring, they should have dragged him there and made him! Where is Isildur now?”

Glorfindel believed that had Erestor been able to walk, he would go after the unfortunate king of men. He was livid. The only thing preventing a possibly tragic diplomatic affair might well have been the splint on Erestor’s right lower leg and the heavy restricting bandage around his knee. Glorfindel kept calm. He had been over this with Elrond and Círdan several times already.

“Erestor, I know that Elrond and lord Círdan have done everything in their power to persuade…”

“Everything save throwing that fool into the fire, Ring and all!” Erestor was hissing angrily. Several residents of the nearby cots were starting to take interest in their conversation.

Erestor was very pale and he was shaking visibly. Glorfindel didn’t know what to say, he had no answer. Isildur's behavior was all too predictable. Hearts of Men were weak to the temptation of great power. Why his lords were letting this happen was a mystery to him. Maybe they knew more, maybe the future had been revealed to them, and maybe Valar had not sent him back just because of this war. He was the bearer of their good will, but he had not been given any answers. Glorfindel understood Erestor’s fury and frustration only too well.

“Please, do not upset yourself so, Erestor. You are yet unwell.”

Erestor gave him a hard glare and Glorfindel regretted the moment between them going so sour so quickly. He reached out and took Erestor’s hand in both of his carefully. Erestor started and tried to flinch back, only then realizing that the hand had pained him. Glorfindel did not let go, he held on. Erestor’s clenched fist opened after a while, his anger fled, and only sadness and incomprehension remained.

“But we have sacrificed so much… Why would they allow him to carry it away…? Glorfindel?”

“I do not know, my dearest friend.”

They sat in silence for a while, each thinking their own thoughts. 

Glorfindel wished they could be alone for just a little moment. He wished to hold Erestor close. He let go of Erestor’s hand and bent to pick up the things he had brought.

“I have found my belongings. The game, it’s yours,” he said, carefully laying the box with the painted lid next to Erestor’s pillow.

“Oh, Glorfindel, I cannot just take it...”

“I am giving it to you. Would you refuse a gift?”

“No, I would not. You are too kind. Thank you.”

“I have also brought you a clean robe, for when they allow you to dress, so you would have something.”

It was Glorfindel’s own robe.

“I am sorry but I have not found your things.”

“That matters not. The clothes can be replaced, my knives can be as well. Though I regret the loss of my staff.”

Glorfindel started. He had not thought to collect Erestor’s weapons at that moment at all. It was not a pleasant thing for a warrior to lose a favoured weapon.

“It was not with you when I found you, must have stayed where you fell. It might still be found…”

“Maybe it is better this way. It is going to be some time before I can wield it. I wish I’d never have to again.”

Glorfindel nodded solemnly.

“Erestor, I meant to ask you…”

“Yes?”

“Are you planning to… Will you stay? In Middle Earth?”

“Of course I will stay. Where would I go? I am a child of these shores and here I should stay for as long as it is possible.”

Glorfindel smiled, “I am glad.”

“What are your plans?” said Erestor carefully.

“I must stay. I want to stay.”

Erestor lifted his eyebrows.

“I am tasked by the Valar to guard Elrond and any descendants he might have in the future.”

“Oh, of course. That is quite convenient,” said Erestor and Glorfindel was pleased to see him smiling though only slightly, “for the king has asked me to do just the same. And I would, even if he had not.”

~

After Glorfindel left, Erestor laboriously turned on his side and unpacked the game in the little place on the cot. It was not easy to find a comfortable position with the many aches he felt all over his body. He took out some of the wooden pieces and caressed them with his fingers and eyes, as he had the first evening he saw them.

Later, he unwound the cord of his pendant from around his wrist, tied the ends together using his hand and teeth, and put it back around his neck. It rested on his chest like a golden feather while he slept.

~


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war has been won. Glorfindel, once of Gondolin, now of nowhere-in-particular as of yet, has found his place in the new life, while somebody else seems to have lost theirs. The journey home begins.

XXII.

Glorfindel visited Erestor every evening. They talked about the situation, the plans for withdrawal, about Imladris, but they never talked about the Ring again. Glorfindel also never asked about the strand of hair in return, even though the thin leather cord around Erestor's neck kept reminding him of it every time they saw each other. Erestor’s pendant was hidden from sight inside the robe he had brought him.

Erestor showed up in the command tent after only a few days rest, demanding he be given work. He was walking on crutches, limping badly, still very pale.

Glorfindel managed to hold back his initial reaction. So instead of: “What are you doing out of bed?!” he said: "I am glad you feel well enough to be up." That way he managed to get a small smile from Erestor instead of what he presumed would have been a cold glare, had he said the first thing that came into his mind. He might not like it, but he understood Erestor’s need to be up and doing something. So he at least went in search of something to prop Erestor’s leg up comfortably.

Elrond stood up from his improvised office table, stretched stiffly, and gladly yielded his place to Erestor, who sat down and with the assistance of Elrond’s adjutant started on a pile of letters that needed to be written, lists that needed to be compiled, and documents that needed to be drafted.

The command tent was like a beehive, elves coming and going all the time, soldiers and quartermasters reporting, messengers being ordered around. Erestor seemed to be doing a lot of the ordering around since he had replaced Elrond. Glorfindel observed him at moments and oddly the dark haired ellon seemed to be rather in his element. He could barely walk himself but it did not hold him from chasing others to run instead of him.

Glorfindel remembered what Erestor said to him once about being just a glorified librarian. As if. Glorfindel smiled to himself. 

~

Glorfindel’s wish for at least a moment of privacy went unfulfilled. All resources were directed to the wounded and their transport, and to the safe withdrawal of the troops. Even the surviving members of the high command slept on the ground in the main tent. So the most they had was lying next to each other at night, when the work for the day was finally or at least partly done. 

Some nights he felt Erestor’s hand reaching for his in the dark. He grasped it and stroke the tender skin of the inner wrist with his thumb. At those times he wondered how little he knew of Erestor, how little they talked, and how much had happened. Fatigue usually took him under fast, not letting him dwell on such thoughts. 

Often they were woken by those plagued by nightmares, them not being an exception.

He lost count of how many days it took to count and bury their dead, salvage what could be salvaged, negotiate with other lords and kings, and dispatch convoys back, all the time maintaining strict watch. If the time of war had been busy, this was hectic, tiring and painful. 

Elrond carried himself admirably, but Glorfindel knew how much he must be suffering. Elrond had a duty to look after his people and bring them home. That must have kept him going. Glorfindel’s own task was to support him through this in any way he could. He also had a private wish that gave him strength. To rebuild… no, to build his life anew, hopefully with Erestor in it.

When finally even the remaining members of the high command were able to leave, Erestor still couldn’t ride a horse. He went with the last of the healers and their convoy, not with the guards. And so Glorfindel had not seen him for most of the journey home. Maybe it was better that way. Being the acting military commander, he had great responsibility.

After they crossed into a safer territory, closer to the elven realms, parts of the convoy were detaching until only those bound for Imladris remained together. When they were only a couple days journey from Imladris they were met by a unit of Imladrian guard that escorted the exhausted returnees home.

That night Erestor found Glorfindel and they went a little further away from the campsite and silently watched the stars lying on Glorfindel’s cloak.

“Glorfindel, you have seen the Trees. Tell me about them, please?”

Of all things Erestor would ask him about the Trees... Looking at the night sky, Glorfindel suddenly remembered them vividly and just talked about the old days. When his monologue trickled out, he found Erestor fast asleep, forehead pressed to Glorfindel’s shoulder.

~

Glorfindel had only passed through Imladris on his journey from Lindon. He had perceived its beauty but had not had time to appreciate it. Several houses had been standing, but there had mostly been forges and tents. Then it had been a military encampment. Now there were several more houses than he remembered, as well as many tents still strewn through the whole valley, their inhabitants both soldiers and refugees he presumed.

He was surprised to see a crowd of elves awaiting the last arrivals from the war, though he probably shouldn’t have been. Many of them laughed happily, seeing their loved ones after years apart. But there were also several who retreated in tears, having lost the last sliver of hope. Nobody approached him for he had no acquaintances here, but many stared at him openly, whispering to each other. Seeking familiar ground he went to stand next to Erestor.

An elf whose hair was so light in color it was almost white wound his way through the crowd and enveloped Erestor in a tight embrace.

“Erestor! Welcome back!”

“Lindir...”

The ellon stood on his tiptoes, kissed Erestor’s brow and embraced him again, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“As am I.”

When finally Erestor extricated himself from Lindir’s enthusiastic grasp, he gestured to Glorfindel.

“Lindir, please meet captain Glorfindel.”

The light-haired ellon bowed to him.

“Forgive my manners, my lord. It is an honor to meet one such fabled as you. I am Lindir, temporary seneschal of fair Imladris, but a minstrel by calling.”

When he straightened up, Glorfindel saw his eyes were like two full moons, almost as light in colour as his hair. He wore a beaded headdress that seemed excessive among the bedraggled soldiers. It sparkled in the early-afternoon sun. He was probably the most beautiful elf he had seen since his return.

“Captain Glorfindel, could you join me for a while?” Elrond voice sounded over the buzzing crowd.

~

The bustle around them quieted slightly and a herold could be heard calling the new arrivals to be assigned quarters. Lindir turned his head that way and then looked back at Erestor with an unsure expression.

“Erestor, wait. About your room… I am sorry but it was given to somebody else. But don’t worry, I personally packed all your clothes and your games...”

Erestor kept looking at him for a moment, he could have presumed this would happen. Still, it brought an unsettling feeling of violation. Although curiously, what alarmed him most on the situation was the notion of Lindir personally packing his things. Lindir was good at many things, even excelled in some, but doing any kind of manual work by himself was sadly not one of them.

"I see... What about my plants?”

“Mmm... I believe the ladies took them? But I’m sure they would return them if you asked. Or maybe they might have stayed in the room...” Lindir scrunched up his nose, obviously trying to remember.

Erestor was silent.

“I’m sorry, Erestor. They needed rooms and you were not here…”

“I understand Lindir. Do not worry about it,” Erestor consoled him quietly.

"I will have your things transported to you when they assign you quarters. And I've tuned your fiddle when I learned you were on your way. I hope we can play together sometime soon?”

Some things he excelled in…

"Thank you. I hope so too."

Lindir smiled one of his sweet smiles and good-naturedly patted Erestor's bad shoulder.

"You'd better go ask about those quarters."

"I will. See you later, Lindir."

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you for staying with me. I apologize for the vague ending of this chapter, I wasn't sure where to part the plot. The next chapter is very much in the making, so hopefully you won't stay confused for too long.
> 
> Btw, I hope I have not made Lindir too much of a comic relief.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel really wants that bit of private time with Erestor but reality constantly interferes. He also finds that the return to one's old self might not be a very pleasant experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, right? Thanks for your patience.
> 
> If you spot any glaring mistakes, please tell me. I've been grapling with grammar more and more lately.

XXIII.

After being introduced to more people than he could readily remember, Glorfindel was finally set free by Elrond. He looked around searching for Erestor and found him standing in a queue near the quartermaster's desk, looking rather more subdued than when he had left him a while ago.

“What are we queueing for?” he asked lightly stepping next to Erestor.

“Quarters,” was the short answer.

“Oh.”

Glorfindel looked around. People were still staring at him and it made him antsy. He tried to ignore the looks and use the time to inspect his surroundings instead. He also tried to think of something to say to Erestor to cheer him up. The trouble was he did not know what troubled him, he must have missed something. Erestor spoke suddenly, disturbing his musing. 

“It seems there are but a few rooms left, which is not surprising. We will be lucky to even get one.”

Glorfindel nodded. He had not thought about things like accommodation during the journey to Imladris, but having an actual room would have been nice… “Pity, that.”

He glanced at Erestor, but Erestor seemed to be staring into space. Glorfindel was about to ask if he were well, but Erestor spoke first again. 

“I used to have a room here, but they have given it to somebody else, while I was away.”

“You had your own room here?” Glorfindel was genuinely interested, because he was well aware of how little he still knew when it came to Erestor’s past.

“Yes, I ended up living in Imladris for some time before the war.”

“Oh. I am sorry they moved you out like that. That’s not a nice thing to return to.”

“It’s… alright. Lindir had packed my belongings,” said Erestor with a curiously wry twist of his lips.

Glorfindel could see it was far from alright and it unsettled him.

“At worst we end up in a tent. Nothing new there,” he tried to joke and earned a little smile from Erestor.

The quartermaster's assistant came up to them. Or more precisely, he came up to Glorfindel. 

“Forgive me, my lord, I have inadvertently overheard your discussion. You do not have to wait here to be assigned a room, of course!” The ellon bowed deeply and beckoned. “Please follow me, my lord, and I will immediately show you…”

Glorfindel did not move, but his eyes narrowed and he gave the poor ellon a hard glare.

“I will wait and share my room if necessary, just like everyone else. Thank you,” he observed stiffly. 

He did not say, however, that it was absolutely necessary that he share a room, and that he share it with Erestor. And now when there seemed to be a wonderfully inconspicuous reason for him to ask it... Well, this little bootlicker could go stuff himself, or Glorfindel would help him with it, if he spoilt this chance for him. He glared harder.

The assistant took a step back, gaped at him for a moment and then politely, if little shakily, excused himself. 

The quartermaster looked surprised by Glorfindel’s request as well, but he quickly attributed it to Glorfindel’s modesty. He even thanked Glorfindel for his consideration of others, because the room prepared for him would easily accommodate four or five. And the golden-haired warrior just stood there being commended for his deed of modesty, which only he knew had in fact been brought about by a very selfish and rather base desire, and tried with all his great might not to blush.

Through all this Erestor looked somewhere between embarrassed and smug, but it was definitely an improvement of his earlier mood. When the whole process was finally over and they were given directions, Erestor was smiling knowingly and Glorfindel had a feeling he saw right through him.

Trying to hide his embarrassment, he stretched and looked around. Imladris suddenly seemed even more beautiful. He felt it could become a home to him, and he was looking forward to settling down here.

Erestor beckoned to him, “Come, I will show you the valley.”

They walked the steep paths mostly in silence. Erestor went first and Glorfindel followed. He watched partly the valley’s beauty and partly Erestor. His limp seemed to have improved a lot. Now and then Erestor would point at something and explain, diverting Glorfindel’s attention back to their surroundings. 

When the path widened Glorfindel stepped up, so they could walk side by side. There was nobody around. The back of Erestor’s hand brushed his, and he was sure it had not been accidental. So Glorfindel plucked up his courage and grasped the slender hand, threading their fingers together. Erestor’s fingers were a little cold, but his palm was warm. They continued walking, content, stealing glances at each other.

“I take it Lindir is your good friend?”

“Hmm, yes. Good old friend. He is a wonderful musician, also the gossip central of Imladris. I love him as a brother, but I would advise you to be careful about what you say in front of him. He doesn’t mean to hurt anybody by it and tries to keep his mouth shut, but he just cannot help himself sometimes. Or most of the time. And you, well… you are something of a celebrity. Good gossip material.”

Glorfindel frowned at that.

The path started to narrow again and they reluctantly separated. When they crossed a bridge and were about to continue to the lower levels of the settlement, a young ellon slightly out of breath caught up with them. 

"My lord, I have been looking for you all over! You need to come with me," he said urgently, looking up at Glorfindel with wide eyes.

Glorfindel’s body tensed and he immediately became alert. 

"What happened?" he asked sharply.

The ellon stood there thunderstruck, his mouth open.

“Speak, boy!” the ancient warrior lashed out at the messenger in a voice that had commanded armies.

"No… no, no, nothing happened. I-I’m the tailor’s apprentice. My master sends me,” the young ellon collected himself finally. “There is a feast tonight and we have been tasked by master Lindir to provide suitable clothes for you. And there really isn't much time. Please my lord, come. It won't take long. All is prepared for a fitting,” he rattled out and beckoned up the path.

Glorfindel nearly rolled his eyes, “All right then. Go, I will follow you in a moment.”

The tailor set out the way he came and Glorfindel turned to Erestor. The muscles in his jaw were twitching, he was angry. 

“I am making myself quite a reputation, am I not? Scaring apprentices…”

Erestor chuckled shortly but did not comment. Glorfindel’s anger abated. He touched his fingers to the back of Erestor’s hand.

"I will see you later then," he said heavily and turned to follow the young tailor.

Erestor nodded, though Glorfindel could not see it anymore, and turned away to continue on his way alone. 

~

Glorfindel caught up with the apprentice and was led to the tailor's workshop. His new clothes were already prepared on a large table. That was where Glorfindel found out that he had missed a key piece of news, when he left for the stroll with Erestor. The clothes that were laid out were not a somber dark robe for a wake, but an elegant set of a shirt with wide flowing sleeves, lavish long tunic, close fitting trousers and curiously... a sash. All this in what once were the colours of his house.

Resigned to be measured, prodded and prickled with too many pins, he asked where he should undress for the fitting. The tailor eyed his worn uniform in unconcealed disgust and inquired whether the lord would first consider bathing after his long and undoubtedly arduous journey.

Thus Glorfindel was chased into a bath and then back for the fitting. The garments were found to be nearly in order, only several small adjustments were needed. The tailor must have kept his measurements from when he was first here.

He wanted to go to look at his new room, but they took his dirty clothes, so he would have to go in a bathrobe. He was debating whether he should risk it, but then a tray with a dinner for him arrived and he was sat in a high chair, two ladies pouncing on him with brushes and scissors to trim and dress his hair. 

He ate his dinner while the ladies worked. There was a napkin all over his front. He felt like a babe, but the precaution proved to be necessary. His hair was tangled after the journey and the rather careless wash he had given it didn’t help things, so he nearly spilt tea on himself several times thanks to the tugging. When the hairdressers finished, he had long grown tired of their apologies and his napkin had several stains.

When he was dressed and finally saw himself in a mirror, he had to look away. When they asked him whether he liked his attire, he smiled politely and nodded profusely. When he was leaving the workshop, he looked at his reflection once again with something akin morbid fascination. The clothes were different, but he looked a lot like… 

… Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower.

~


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor, too, finds the homecoming difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to your continued support, I surpased myself and finished another chapter for you. Unfortunatelly it's not a very optimistic one.
> 
> In the evening I'm off :) See you in about three weeks.

XXIV.

When Glorfindel left, Erestor made a few paces in the direction they had meant to go together and then he stopped. He stood there for a while, contemplating. A feast, of course there would be a feast. They were the last to arrive.

He looked over his shoulder and was just about to glimpse Glorfindel’s retreating back with the messy golden braid swinging left and right, before the warrior disappeared behind a corner.

Erestor’s dark eyes roamed around. There was no reason to wander the valley any longer, so he decided to go find the room they had been assigned and check whether his things had already been delivered. He too needed to get his clothes in order for the gathering. But first he had to get some food. He had last eaten in the morning and was too hungry to wait until the evening feast.

He took the shortest route back to the central square, thinking it to be the most likely place to find something to eat. If that assumption failed, there would certainly be somebody he could ask there. His guess, however, proved correct. The open area was already brimming with elves. Some were milling around among tables that must have been set there immediately after the arrival of the last returnees. Many were already sitting on chairs, benches, and also on the ground. There was no hall big enough to sit so many.

It must be difficult to feed all who were now housed in Imladris. Erestor couldn’t help but worry about how big a dent would the planned feast make in their supplies for winter.

Coming closer, he saw the food that had been laid out and his mouth watered uncontrollably. He had lived on bread for the majority of the last few years.

He ended up devouring as much fresh fruit and greens as he dared to not make himself sick. It was hard not to reach for just one more slice of fruit, or one more beautiful green leaf sparkling with droplets of water… He drew his hand back. His instinct of self-preservation made him eat a few dry biscuits afterwards and turn away from the mouth-watering bounty on the tables.

Only then he realized he hadn’t even gone to sit with the food, he had just gobbled it down standing while reaching for more. He saw that many others were behaving in the same way. The returnees ravenous for something green that was juicy, not dried, or preserved. Not a dry bread no matter how nutritious…

Many of them will probably regret such binge come evening, but maybe not. Maybe that moment of tasting the sweetness of the several first bites would be enough to compensate for the discomfort that would surely follow. Maybe they will even get more at the feast. He turned away.

Following the directions he had been given, he found the right door. He opened it and looked around the unfamiliar room. There was one window and a bed by each wall next to it. In one corner was a dresser upon which stood a water basin, a jug and a mirror, in the other corner was a table with two chairs. In the middle of the room stood a big trunk with two potted plants on its lid, and a small trunk on which lay a shiny leather case.

Erestor closed the door and knelt down, taking both the pots in turn into his hands. Were they even his plants? They were rather overgrown. It was difficult to recognize a plant after several years, when another had been taking care of it. The pots he knew though, both were gifts from Lindir. It must have been what saved them from disappearing without a trace. He stood up and carried both to the windowsill, he would care for them later.

After opening the larger chest he found that Lindir had done a better job of the packing than he had suspected. He should apologize to his friend for his distrust, even if it was unspoken. His clothes seemed all carefully folded and there were little linen sacks of lavender put in between the stacks.

To one side was a small varnished box with personal items that Lindir must have gathered from around his old room. A pack of his favourite tea gifted to him by a friend, its leaves discolored but still faintly smelling of quiet evenings. His clay teapot with a chipped handle. Several trinkets, an old hair clasp, a whittling knife in an inlaid sheath. A locket with wisps of hair of his naneth and adar, black and brown forever entwined and sealed in resin. He had taken nothing of his personal possessions with him for fear of losing them, and now they felt as if they were someone else's.

The smaller trunk contained his books and his games, as he had suspected. All were carefully packed. He reached for the black leather case and opened it. His fiddle rested there in its soft bed of dark velvety fabric. It seemed Lindir had not only tuned it, it also had new strings, and the bow was freshly rosined. Even the pad was new. Lindir had his priorities. Erestor smiled, feeling the warmth of Lindir’s welcome. Still his heart was heavy. He wondered what had happened to the harp and lutes after he had written to Lindir that their owners would not return.

Erestor abruptly stood up from the floor and went to open the window. He must clean the mess he made on the floor while unpacking, and his robes need airing after years spent in a trunk!

He took all of his clothing out of the chest and hung out his better robes around the half of the room he had appointed as his. There was not nearly enough space to air all of his garments, not mentioning the fact that he truly did not wish for Glorfindel to come and find Erestor’s undergarments hanging on any available surface in their shared room. So he stuffed some of the remaining clothes into the dresser and the rest he returned into the trunk, which he pushed to the legs of his bed.

While rummaging in the dresser he discovered a drawer full of towels, which reminded him of another activity he was sorely in need of doing.

He headed to the bathhouse. After washing off the worst of the travel dirt in the trough outside, he usurped one tub with warm water. When he climbed in he nearly moaned in bliss, he hadn't had a hot bath in ... he couldn't remember how long.

He scrubbed at his body and face with a rough sponge until his skin was angrily red, as if he wanted to wash away all that happened. He was careful only around the fresh scars. His hair he washed several times until it finally felt clean. He had cut it recently, it was still quite short. Almost as short as when his braid was cut...

He tried to breath through the sudden nausea the memory brought. His grip on the rim of the tub tightened and he was glad there was a screen hiding him from sight. The nausea did not abate, his stomach nearly turned. The warm water was making him lightheaded, he had to get out. He quickly finished washing and climbed out of the tub, and had to sit down on the floor huddled in his towel.

He couldn't face attending the festivities right now.

When he recovered enough, he dragged himself back to the room. Glorfindel wasn’t there, but there was a bundle of new clothes on his bed. The tailor’s regards, no doubt. Glorfindel would need them, he had next to nothing. What he had had, he had given out. Erestor idly wondered where the soft robe he had been given by the warrior ended up.

The sheets were clean and soft and smelled of soap. Erestor nearly melted into his bed. It was getting dark outside, so he didn't bother to pull the curtain, preferring instead to watch the small piece of the night sky that was visible. He remembered how they had lain under the stars and Glorfindel spoke about the Trees. It was only a couple nights ago. Yet, their time together now felt like it had been a dream.

Glorfindel must have gone straight to the feast. Oh Valar, what he wouldn’t give if they could now just curl up together and sleep. But Erestor had no exclusive right to Glorfindel's time or attention.

He waited for the feeling of being home to arrive but it wasn’t happening. This empty room did not make it better. Glorfindel’s tent was more of a home to him, back there.

Erestor sighed and burrowed deeper under the blanket. He closed his eyes.

This was the first moment of real peace and privacy he had had in years. He lay there in the coming darkness and remembered. Two fat tears rolled down his cheeks. A pitiful whine broke through his lips followed by a gasp. And then he cried silently. For the way things had used to be, for lost friends, for his king, his poor plants, the small room in the eastern wing of the newly built house that had once become a home and was it no longer. For the feelings that had grown in him and were so strong it was frightening.

The robes he had hung to air looked like ghosts standing around his bed in the dark. He felt so tired.

~


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel struggles with his celebrity status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm back! Holiday was enjoyed, a cold was (hopefully) beaten, my office did not crumble to dust during my absence, and I finally have a new chapter for you. It's a bit lacking in dialogue but has other merits... I think. Tell me what you think ;)

XXV.

Glorfindel looked around the banquet hall and as inconspicuously as he could pulled at the fashionable sash that was nevertheless pinching him terribly. Elrond was having a seemingly never-ending speech and Glorfindel was giving it only a half of his attention, the other half he dedicated to watching the crowd. There were so many elves sitting in the hall, as well as standing in the open doors and windows, crowding so they would see and hear better.

On his cue he stood up, bowed and renewed his oath to Elrond. They all cheered at him. So he smiled and nodded his head and tried to look his part. He decided to just ignore the sash, he had survived worse things in his… two lives, after all.

He couldn't see Erestor anywhere, and he realized he had forgotten to ask Erestor if he meant to come...

After the meal was served and eaten, people converged on him. It was heartwarming and humbling to see the light and hope in their eyes. But why would they claim it was caused by his mere presence? The war has been won, but he did not do that singlehandedly, for Valar’s sake. He didn’t know what to say to their words of praise. 

Everyone seemed to want to talk to him. People kept laying hands on his arms, trying to gain his attention, they even touched his hair.

He used to like meeting new people, but that was before he had become a living legend, a hero people thought they knew everything about from history books that had been written long after his passing. As the evening progressed he was feeling more and more cornered. He had suffered through this once, but those were soldiers, in awe of his deeds and ready to stand up to his orders. This was different. And why wasn’t Erestor here?

They persuaded him to try and learn the new dances. It was surprisingly simple which dismayed him a little bit. He had no excuse for not participating. At least, he decided to strictly adhere to a rule he lived by back in… before. Never dance with a lady twice in a row. It created expectations and made people talk.

He glanced at the musicians, they played superbly, no doubt trying with all the skill they possessed to ease the troubled minds of the returned soldiers. Lindir seemed to be in his element, his voice as beautiful as his face was fair.

Glorfindel was offered numerous glasses of wine, some of which he drunk and others he only nestled in his palms until he found a chance to put them down somewhere inconspicuously. His head was already spinning a bit too much. He had a vague feeling that with one of the glasses he had actually been offered a hand of somebody's daughter.

They were asking questions he didn't want to answer. Answering them would wake feelings he didn't care for. A pain buried deep in his memory but still present. Ladies were nearly begging for a dance with the hero. Once it would have felt good, he had been proud and vain once, now he just wanted peace and quiet and no unsolicited touches, no questions and no struggling to win his favour. 

Whatever happened with the elven ethics over the ages? They were so bold! Or was it him who had become antiquated?

It all became too much. He felt he had had enough. He had to get out.

He frantically searched around for some means of a polite escape. He found it in the form of the pale-haired master minstrel. Lindir seemed to be having a break. He was standing on the side with a glass and idly watching the revelry. Glorfindel caught his gaze and made his way toward him.

“Good evening, my Lord,” the minstrel welcomed him with a light bow of his head. The gems in his hair sparkled with the movement and caught Glorfindel’s eyes for an instant.

“And to you, master Lindir.”

“What brings you to me if I may ask?”

“Eh…,” Glorfindel smiled wryly, how eloquent, "could you please direct me to my room? I'm afraid I am not sure of the directions." Because he had not listened very carefully before, he had thought Erestor would lead him there.

"Of course. So you are leaving already?"

“I am afraid so. I feel quite tired.”

Lindir smiled at him sympathetically, “A bit annoying, aren't they, my Lord? They would tire out an oliphaunt.” Lindir’s words were light hearted, but his tone was serious. 

Glorfindel momentarily confused by the change of topic just nodded dumbly. Lindir smiled again and described the way to Glorfindel’s room.

“Sleep well, my Lord. I will cover your strategic retreat with some distracting music.”

“Thank you, master minstrel.”

Glorfindel slipped out of the hall into the dark corridors. He found the right room fairly easily. There was a little plate with their names on the door. He almost wished he could remove it, but it was fastened quite firmly. 

He knocked quietly, but there was no answer, so he opened the door. The room was quiet and dark. He looked around towards the lighter rectangle of the window and started. It took him a while to discern that the dark shapes he saw around the room were in fact hanging clothes. He smiled at how easily he got spooked, but his heart was still hammering painfully in his chest. 

He made a few steps inside the room to better orient himself. His eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and his ears picked up a quiet sound of breathing. There was a huddled shape on one of the beds. Erestor. Glorfindel had seen him asleep often enough in the past to recognize his friend by the way he slept.

He stepped closer to look at him. And perhaps to see whether he would fit next to Erestor, to hold him through the night. 

No, he wouldn’t. 

He would have to wake Erestor to move him and he was loath to do that. He also remembered Erestor’s reaction when he had once tried to pull him close without warning. 

He pushed down the disappointment he felt and turned to his own bed. There was a soft bundle of something lying on the covers. He found out when he nearly sat on it. He transferred it to the ground, shucked his clothes and fell into his bed. He thanked the Valar in the privacy of his mind for keeping them both through the war, and then let his mind slip into reverie.

~

Morning came and Glorfindel was woken by the light streaming from the window directly into his face. His part of the room was painted pale gold by Arien’s rays, while Erestor’s still remained in shadow. He really needed to pull the curtains tonight.

Erestor seemed to be asleep still, only the top of his head was visible, hair strewn over the white pillow. Glorfindel was reminded of another time, many other times when he woke to a similar sight. He hoped today would be the first day from which he would keep seeing exactly this same sight every single morning until the Arda was changed.

He lay in his bed for a moment longer and then got up quietly nearly tripping over the bundle he had put on the floor at night. The bundle revealed several sets of clothes. Luckily no more sashes, he thought and kicked at the offending piece of cloth he had thrown on the floor the night before. He folded yesterday’s clothes on one of the chairs and pulled some of the new clothes on, examining the dark robes that hang around Erestor’s bed while he dressed. 

He was just trying to tame his hair when there was a quiet knock on the door. Glorfindel tied a leather strap around the end of his braid and opened the door a little, finding a wide-eyed ellon there.

"Yes?" he whispered hoping the ellon would take the cue.

“Good morning to you, my Lord. Lord Chancellor invites you for breakfast,” the ellon whispered back handing Glorfindel a card with a neatly written invitation.

“Oh, thank you.” He looked himself over and glanced back at his sleeping roommate. “Please lead the way,” he told the waiting messenger. Going away was the last thing he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t start his stay here by insulting the high-ranking officials of his new home by refusing their invitations.

Glorfindel only hoped it was not the one who had offered him the daughter…

~


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindir and his formidable tendency to gossip enter the scene. If it's for better or worse remains to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for staying with me and this story for over a year now! I have never thought I would ever write something this long, or get so many lovely comments and kudos for it <3 Thanks, you keep me going!  
> So, here's my early Christmas gift to you, a new chapter starring extremely talkative Lindir.
> 
> PS: I am sorry for butchering elven names, sadly I have no knowledge of their languages whatsoever -_-

XXVI.

When Erestor woke up, the sun was already high up, bathing the room in golden light. He squinted. His mind felt muddled. He must have slept too long. Nevertheless, he pressed his face into the pillow trying to chase the escaped darkness and catch the tails of sleep again. He wondered how long he could stay like this, with blessed dark but no air to breathe. In fact, he knew exactly how long it took to suffocate, and he did not wish to undergo that particular experience. With a resigned grunt he raised his head and looked around the room blearily. It was disconcerting what some time in relative safety had done to his instincts.

There was another bed across from his. Glorfindel’s bed. It was definitely slept in but his friend was not in the room anymore. He remembered yesterday and signed, heaving himself into a sitting position and resting his head on drawn up knees. They were home.

There was no reason he should get up other than finding sustenance. He had nowhere to be and was not sure what he was in fact supposed to do. Probably nothing. Still, there was no reason to stay in bed either, so he got up.

Glorfindel surely had many places to be, because otherwise he would be here, wouldn’t he?

Erestor washed his face and slowly dressed. Then on a whim he knelt down and opened the small chest that contained his game collection. He had put the new addition in it yesterday. It was there lying on the very top. He smiled.

There was a light knock on the door and Erestor shut the chest lid with a thud, startled from his thoughts.

The door opened and the grinning face of his minstrel friend peeked in.

“Good morning, Erestor!”

“Good morning, Lindir. You are awfully chirpy considering you must have gone to bed not long ago.”

“I have not slept. No sleep for the wicked!”

“Of course, doubly so in your case. Been gathering the newest gossip?”

“No! I was working! Do you know how hard it is to keep this madhouse in order?” cried Lindir indignantly and the grinned again. “Oh… well, I was doing a little bit of both. That’s a part of the job anyway.” He made himself comfortable on one of the chairs, smoothing out his blue robe meticulously. “Why didn’t you attend yesterday?”

“I was tired. I went to sleep.”

 “Oh. I hope you have slept well.”

Erestor nodded silently choosing not to elaborate on the topic and sat down on his bed.

Lindir jumped up from the chair and came to sit next to him, starting the process of smoothing out his attire anew. Erestor had a good idea of what was awaiting him when Lindir casted a meaningful glance at the opposite bed, grasped Erestor’s wrist and squeezed it conspiratorially.

“Lord Glorfindel, he really is something, isn’t he? I watched him yesterday during the ball and he is easy on the eyes, I tell you.”

Erestor chuckled at Lindir’s enthusiasm. Lindir was the uncrowned king of the Imladrian grapevine, and often even manipulated the flow of gossip for his own amusement. He could be relied on to know most everything that happened in the valley, and a lot of what happened only in theory.

“What a commotion he caused!” Lindir gushed on. “Everybody seemed to be pretty taken with him. But that’s no wonder. How often does one see a reborn elf? And somebody of his qualities! I thought there would be a fight for who would dance with him next. You should have seen that! I was waiting when the ladies would start scratching and pulling each other’s hair because of it,” Lindir tsked and frowned. “They tired him out, the poor soul.”

Through Lindir’s animated monologue Erestor silently watched his friend’s face, drinking it in with his eyes, enjoying the long missed company and trying to absorb some of the joy, even though the topic of Lindir’s speech was making him slightly uncomfortable.

“Are you two friends? Is he really that nice? He seemed nice when I talked to him yesterday, and I mean, it was really nice of him to give up his room, even though he could have just kept the bigger room and let some people move in there with him. This is a bit on the small side,” Lindir looked around thoughtfully.

Erestor nodded. When Lindir kept looking at him expectantly, he added: “Yes, he is very kind.”

Lindir smiled happily, “Who would think that some legends are actually true. It’s nice, kind of reassuring, don’t you think? What if he were completely awful? That would have been seriously disconcerting.”

“I don’t think…” Erestor started quietly but Lindir rolled right over him, “I’ve heard that old Faheron actually offered him to marry Larenel!”

Erestor closed his mouth and a muscle in his jaw twitched, “Really?”

“Yes, really! Can you believe it? That old goat has a nerve! Or maybe he was just drunk. But I guess he only said something others were also thinking. Others with daughters, that is,” laughed the minstrel. “Breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Come on, then,” Lindir jumped up and pulled Erestor to his feet as well.

When they were leaving the room, Erestor couldn’t help but ask, “Lindir, do you happen to know where Lord Glorfindel is now?”

“I’ve heard that he was invited to breakfast by the Lord Counsellor from Lindon. He didn’t tell you where he was going?”

“I was yet asleep.”

“Oh.”

Their walk to the dining hall and the subsequent late breakfast were spent with Lindir chattering about anything that came to mind and Erestor listening with half an ear, dedicating the rest of his attention to enjoying the meal.

From what he gathered from Lindir’s description, he did not regret not attending. He needed time to get used to society. He spent the last years mostly in the company of his dear Môrlin. Wherever she may be now, probably drafted to a transport. He had talked to her when the silence became too oppressive, but she had only neighed and snickered back.

“I do wonder which one will win his heart though, don’t you?” Lindir’s voice broke through his musing. Erestor directed his gaze to where Lindir was looking and saw a group of ellith walking through the hall, talking excitedly among themselves.

Erestor’s eyes slid to his plate.

“Master Erestor?” a bashful query sounded behind his shoulder.

“Yes, that’s me.”

The ellon stepped to his side, one of the soldiers by the look of him. He spoke, “I know. I brought you something. I have seen you fight in the tourney. When you fought the Captain. That was amazing,” he was looking at Erestor with shining eyes. Lindir turned to Erestor with interest.

“This was found when we sorted through the salvaged weaponry. It is a wonderful piece, I have never seen any such. I thought you would be the one who could use something like this. Valar give that you wouldn’t have to, but one never knows.”

The soldier opened a package and Erestor’s face hardened and lost some of its color.

“That is my staff.”

“Your staff? It is yours? Oh Valar, I had no idea. Here, please, take it. It has been cleaned.”

Erestor’s heart beat painfully in his chest. He reached out, then drew back a bit before finally taking the staff and gripping it tightly. The weapon felt familiar in his hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured and the ellon left with a somewhat disturbed expression.

“You fought with Lord Glorfindel? When? Why?” Lindir started nagging.

When Erestor didn’t answer, Lindir actually poked him with his spoon. “Erestor? Tell meee,” he nearly whined. “Is he really that good? Did he win, or did you?”

Erestor stood up abruptly, his expression dark. “I need to put it away.”

He could hear Lindir calling after him disappointedly.

~

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So near, and yet so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my long absence, I hope I'll be forgiven by bringing a new chapter.
> 
> Since the beginning, this story is inseparably tied to the melody of "Lovers" from the House of Flying Daggers. I listen to it every time I need to get back into the particular mood for writing (and boy, have I heard hours of it in the last several months :/). I knew from the start that it would feature in the story as well, and that moment came now. If you wish to get a sense of the mood (and make me a happy cookie) go to youtube and listen to the erhu solo of this song (/watch?v=PvPsUuZ3ELY). Play it very quietly and imagine it echoing through the Valley at night :)

XXVII.

The last time he had seen his staff, air had been hot and acrid with smoke and his King and friend had been dying a short distance away. He remembered seeing it there half trampled into the mud. It was clean now. He didn’t find it in himself to try and see if the releasing mechanism still worked. He just rolled the staff back into the cloth in which the soldier had brought it to him and tucked it in the chest under all his belongings. There it would stay for as long as it would take for him to come to terms with all that had happened since the beginning of the war.

Erestor closed the lid of the chest with finality. He took care of the potted plants that had been delivered to him and afterwards he opened the lid of the smaller chest, unpacked all of his board games and spread them around himself on the floor. He spent the afternoon and evening alone. His roommate did not come back.

~

Glorfindel found the breakfast with the Lord Chancellor of Lindon better than he had expected and quite informative regarding the who was who in Imladris. He had been introduced to most of the officials during the ball the night before, but their functions and import had remained mostly a mystery, not to speak about their names. Those he had promptly forgotten moments after the introductions had been made. There had just been too many and his mind had been elsewhere. 

The breakfast stretched almost until noon and afterwards he was invited to lunch by the current temporary Captain of the guard. The captain confided in him that he would be leaving soon, and that Lord Elrond would probably wish to talk to Glorfindel on this topic, hinting quite openly that the Captain’s role might very well fall to him. When Glorfindel later dined with an exhausted Elrond, this was confirmed. They made some preliminary plans regarding the valley’s security and parted when the moon was already high in the sky.

When Glorfindel returned to his room he felt as if it were yesterday. It was dark, only the rectangle of the window let some starlight in. Erestor was curled on his side, facing the wall, fast asleep. He was still asleep when Glorfindel was leaving the room to go to the training ground the next morning.

~

Erestor was woken by Lindir the next day. The minstrel peeked into the room and only then remembered to knock hastily. 

“Have I woken you? I am sorry. No, do not get up.”

Lindir stepped into the room and seated himself on the edge of Erestor’s bed. A long silver flute was protruding from the pocket of his robe, and another smaller wooden one was stuck in his hair where it was knotted on the top of his head. A clear sign that Lindir was stressed. He tended to carry small instruments around just for comfort. With his head still on the pillow, Erestor smiled up at the minstrel. He had always been entertained by a vision of Lindir lugging his grand harp around when things were truly bad. Maybe he had been doing just that during the war...

“Good morning, Erestor. Have you slept well? I apologize if I have been too forceful yesterday. I merely tried to cheer you up, distract you… and myself as well...” Lindir lowered his eyes and grasped Erestor’s hand which was lying on the blanket in both of his soft slender ones.

“Do not apologize for good intentions, Lindir.”

“You were so subdued. Have I offended you with my remarks? You did not even answer me…”

“I am still quite tired, Lindir. And I confess that the topic was making me uncomfortable. Lord Glorfindel has become a good friend to me and it is a bit embarrassing to hear talked about him thus. I know he would not wish it.”

“Oh. I apologize. I did not mean to be impertinent. I really do admire him, you know.”

Erestor nodded and they sat in silence for a while, which in itself was a proof of Lindir’s remorse.

“What has got you in such a state?” Erestor sat up and pulled the wooden flute out of Lindir’s hair. The knot came undone and the sensation of his hair tumbling down made the minstrel reach out distractedly. He aborted the motion when Erestor presented him with the flute. Lindir stared at it for a while as if he didn’t know how it got there, which he probably didn’t. He took it from Erestor and stuffed it into one of his long flowing sleeves. Erestor suspected there might be a wealth of things in there.

“Oh, everything, really. There is just so much to do with so many people staying here. I shouldn’t even be sitting here talking, but I wanted to see you.” Fishing out a metal clasp from his sleeve, Lindir quickly fixed his hair.

“Could I help?” enquired Erestor.

“You certainly could. In fact I was hoping you would offer. You have always been good at organizing things.”

“Good. I will be glad to have something to do.”

“Meet me in my office when you’re ready then? And take your fiddle, hopefully we will find time to play later.”

Lindir got up smiling cheerfully, breezed through the room and nearly caught one of his sleeves in the door when leaving. And Erestor nearly chuckled.

~

Glorfindel managed to return to their room shortly after dinner. The room was quiet and tidy. Erestor’s bed was made and his robes long put away. 

He sat a while pondering what to do until the four walls of the empty room felt like shrinking in on him. He gathered his cloak and went out, mind heavy with new responsibilities and heart heavy with thwarted hopes. What he had hoped for seemed to have disappeared like a puff of smoke in a wind. It was not sensible to think like this, he knew, but the need for solace that was going unfulfilled frustrated him more than he would have considered likely. Erestor seemed to draw back from him and he could not fathom why. They each slept in their own bed and there was no indication Erestor would wish any different. They had not even have a chance to speak since their walk hand in hand on the high paths of the valley that first day. 

Expectations. They always tended to be the parents of frustration.

Glorfindel set out at a fast pace through the valley. His face must have shown some of his inner turmoil for none dared stop him with idle talk. He received a few greetings to which he nodded. He was meeting fewer and fewer of the valley’s inhabitants as he went further from the settlement, until there were none at all and the night was quiet. 

Only not completely quiet. Someone was playing music not too far away. A haunting melody carried through the cooling air. Glorfindel could not discern what instrument was being played, the sound hoarse and rasping at times, flowing smooth at others, but never was it other than mournful. After all, he was but one of many with a heavy heart. In a way that was reassuring.

He kicked at a stone that lay in his path and immediately regretted it. Even more so when it ricocheted off a tree with a dull thud and hit him in the shin. He deserved that. He watched his booted feet callously drag through the dewy grass and could not stand it. He stopped and removed the heavy boots angrily. Feeling the wet blades of grass and crunching leaves under his bare feet cooled his head. He roamed on much slower and the quiet melody kept him company and provided a background to his thoughts.

He was drawn towards the source of the sound but when he thought he was nearing it at last, the melody suddenly stopped in the middle of a phrase. Only an indecipherable mumble of voices could now be heard. It jarred him out of his thoughts. 

He saw a small clearing in front of him and directed his steps there, curious.

~

“Oh, give it here! You put it all out of tune. You're so heavy-handed.”

Erestor frowned at Lindir and felt hot anger clawing at his insides. He gripped the neck of his fiddle tighter and nearly curled himself around the delicate instrument protectively. Lindir’s eyes widened and his indignation seemed to evaporate.

“Sorry, I did not mean it. I am sorry, Erestor. Please forgive me. I did not mean to...”

Lindir reached out again but not for the instrument this time. He tried to embrace Erestor and stroke his hair, but Erestor flinched back and turned his head away. He shivered with rage and didn’t even understand why. Or did he? He had let himself go while playing and now the emotions just boiled over. He had to make himself let go of the fiddle lest he crushed its fragile body in his hands. He let Lindir gently remove it and lay it aside on the bench.

Lindir leaned his forehead on Erestor’s dark-clad shoulder. “I am sorry,” he whispered. 

Erestor sighed and inclined his head so his cheek rested on the crown of Lindir’s. With all the antics his minstrel friend got up to, it was sometimes easy to forget that Lindir was one of the oldest elves Erestor had ever known. He had had more than fair share of woe through the long years of his life. He could act thoughtlessly at times, but he understood well enough.

Feeling physically weak after pouring so much of himself into the music, Erestor lay down on the bench nestling his face on the corner of Lindir’s robe. “You play something,” he mumbled. His hand found its way on top of his breastbone where he felt the now familiar tickle of a pendant made of golden hair. He wondered if it gave him as much strength as is sometimes seemed to sap of him.

Lindir was silent and there was no music forthcoming. Erestor could hear how Lindir’s breathing picked up for a moment and then calmed down again. A quiet sob was lost in there somewhere.

“... I could only wait and read the letters and hope and try to keep things going here…"

Erestor closed his eyes tightly after hearing that sudden confession. He didn’t need to look up to know Lindir’s eyes were brimming with tears. 

"... I am so glad you came back, my friend.”

After a while Lindir took up the flute.

~

Glorfindel came to the edge of a small glade that was bathed in a soft light given by the clear night sky. Under a solitary tree with branches hanging nearly to the ground there was a stone bench. An ellon with long pale hair sat on the bench, the starlight sparkling on small jewels on the crown of his head and on a silver flute he held. Glorfindel realized he had seen the headdress before and that it was indeed the valley’s master minstrel who was sitting there.

On Lindir’s left side lay a long necked fiddle and on his right a dark shape of a resting person. And Glorfindel knew that it must be Erestor. The one he sought, perhaps without knowing. What led his steps here when he could have gone in any other direction.

At that moment Lindir put the flute to his mouth and Glorfindel was reminded of Ecthelion so vividly he thought he could touch him. Those rare free afternoons, sitting on the edge of the great fountain in Ecthelion’s gardens. A different lifetime. 

When the vision disappeared, it left behind a pain in his chest, but a strange sense of peace.

Glorfindel left the glade, bare feet making no sound. Tomorrow he would talk to Erestor.

~


	28. Chapter 28

XXVIII.

Glorfindel awoke. The sun was once again shining directly into his face but he did not mind it this time. He turned his head on the pillow to make sure his plans had not been thwarted. In the shadowed part of the room, his companion rested quietly cocooned in a blanket, face turned to the wall.

No matter who came to their door, save perhaps Elrond himself, Glorfindel would not leave this morning until Erestor awoke. He would see this through.

He arose and dressed. Brushing his hair, he came upon a black leather case lying on the table. He had seen it there before but only now he understood its significance. He put down his hairbrush and with a quick backwards glance he reached for the clasps guiltily. The slender case revealed the same peculiar instrument he had seen lying on the moonlit bench the night before. It had been Erestor playing, not Lindir, he was sure of that now. A Siren’s song that had drawn him close as surely as if Erestor had called to him.

He crossed the room on silent feet and stood over Erestor watching him, trying to match this new piece of knowledge with the pale face of his beloved. Erestor’s hair which had been dull and always covered in a layer of dust was now black and glossy, face rid of the ever-present ingrained soot and dirt very fair. It was as if the infamous Sootface never had existed. But he had, and Glorfindel had fallen for him irrevocably. He felt he had known the Sootface, at least as much as one could know a friend of several years. He would now need to get to know this fair faced stranger, too.

Glorfindel stooped down, dearly wanting to touch. He stopped himself. Erestor looked troubled even in reverie, his eyes closed. The war and the King’s death had taken their toll, yet only a few days ago Erestor had seemed barely affected. But what did he know? They were apart most of the time.

Erestor’s closed eyelids unnerved him, impatience fuelling his worry. A sudden realization dawned on him and Glorfindel took in a sharp shaky breath. Heavy sleep and inability to rouse were symptoms of fading. Maybe Erestor was just tired and still healing, but… Oh Valar! Erestor had been resting when he saw him with Lindir the night before. Had he spent all his time resting? 

He laid a hand on Erestor’s brow almost expecting to find it too cold. Erestor jerked awake and lashed out at Glorfindel’s hand halfheartedly. He then turned around, snuffled into the pillow and… slept on.

Glorfindel stood staring at him for a moment. He tore himself from his musings forcefully and crossed the room in a few long strides. Sticking his head out of the door, he stopped an unsuspecting elleth politely asking her whether she could find the time to arrange for a breakfast to be delivered to him. She was so flustered she actually thanked him for his request instead of just acknowledging it before rushing off. Being a sort of celebrity did have its perks after all.

The voices must have roused Erestor, for when Glorfindel turned back into the room, the former master spy was half sitting in his bed and looking at him blearily. Glorfindel was reminded of another morning when he brought breakfast to an ailing Erestor, but that seemed an age ago.

“Good morning,” Glorfindel put a happy smile on his face and went to Erestor. “I am sorry for waking you earlier.”

“What?” was the confused answer.

Glorfindel just shook his head. “I got us breakfast. Will be here soon.”

Erestor nodded distractedly. He reached for a robe, got up to wash his face and sat to the table. He still looked half asleep.

Glorfindel felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his insides. The smile he had pasted on his face frayed and then crumbled completely. He sat down stiffly opposite Erestor.

“Erestor, is it uncomfortable for you to share the room with me? If that is so, you should have spoken up,” he said quietly and was anguished to see Erestor startle and gaze at him with wide eyes.

“No, of course not,” Erestor eventually burst out and then looked away with a sigh. “I am sorry for my behaviour. I am not at my best now.”

Before Glorfindel could think of an answer, there was a knock on the door. Their breakfast arrived. Glorfindel brought it to the table and laid it out, pouring tea for both of them before sitting down again. Erestor was following him with his eyes the whole time.

“Thank you.”

They ate and it was not just the table separating them. Glorfindel half expected Erestor would not eat and was rather surprised to see everything that had been on Erestor’s plate polished off before he himself managed even a half. Erestor sat with him sipping his tea until Glorfindel finished, probably just from politeness. Then he got up and went to sit on his bed, creating even more distance between them.

Glorfindel clenched his jaw tight. He stood up and followed him to sit on the edge of Erestor’s bed. The deep-green eyes sharply observing his every move. It seemed he would have to fight for every inch. That was nothing new for him in his military career but something quite different in his private life. Now that he had Erestor successfully cornered with nowhere to run, he had to ease up.

“Erestor, what is weighing down on you? You seem… so sad. Speak to me. Please. I am worried about you.”

“I apologize.”

“Valar, what for?!”

“I am not at my best…” the dark head bowed to the drawn-up knees.

Like hitting against a wall. Glorfindel took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Are you grieving?” he started again quietly.

Erestor was silent for a while, not moving. He too then sighed, his back heaving. He nodded without lifting his gaze. “I miss them so much. It’s as… as if I only realized that when we returned here,” he murmured against his knees.

“Your companions from your unit?”

Erestor nodded again, finding it perhaps easier than to speak it, and continued stiffly: “We trained here together and set out together. Of those close to me only Lindir stayed in Imladris. Everything has... changed so much. The King… I grew up at his court, served him most of my life...”

Glorfindel had to wait for a while for Erestor to continue. When he did his words did not please the ancient lord.

“I do not wish to burden you with what must seem a trifle to one like you, Glorfindel. If at least half of what the history books say is true, you must have seen so much woe through your life... ”

Without meaning to perhaps, Erestor offended him deeply with his words. Glorfindel was not able to reign in his anger. He shot to his feet and stared at the bowed head of his dark-haired companion.

“I was not aware grief was quantifiable thus, too little being a trifle! Or that perhaps it was a contest with only the winner being allowed to hurt!” _How can you say you know what I went through...from books…_ Glorfindel paused in horrified surprise. His was a peculiar situation.

Erestor, alerted first by the abrupt movement and then by the harsh words, finally lifted his head to look up at him. Glorfindel had known Erestor for several years during one of the most terrible wars in history and this was the first time he ever saw him scared. It was like a dagger thrust and twisted in his heart. He never meant for their talk to go like this. Seeking to sooth both Erestor and himself, he slowly sat back down to the edge of Erestor's bed, hating the distance between them.

“If it would help you, then believe that the memories of my old life, no matter how painful, are dull and hazy, and although they still haunt me sometimes, they no longer hurt. You are very dear to me, Erestor, I want to know what ails you. If you need to talk, talk to me. If you hurt, I want to know why and alleviate it in any way I can.”

The tightly wound body relaxed visibly. 

“Thank you.”

Glorfindel waited to see whether Erestor would continue, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. He could not bear the distance anymore.

"Erestor, may I hold you?”

Erestor gazed at him in obvious surprise. “Please,” he whispered.

He kicked of his shoes, shuffled back on the bed and gathered Erestor gently into his arms. Erestor went hesitantly despite his plea, but soon his body melted against Glorfindel’s and his fingers closed slowly over the lapel of Glorfindel’s shirt. 

Suddenly the world seemed right again. Glorfindel smiled at the thought and leaned his cheek on Erestor’s temple, lips brushing against the dark hair and the tip of an ear. He felt Erestor sigh and his arms went around Glorfindel’s chest squeezing him almost painfully. In turn, the cold hand that had been crushing Glorfindel’s insides eased up.

Thus they sat on Erestor’s bed, Glorfindel leaning on the wall and Erestor with his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder. After a while Erestor’s grip relaxed and their embrace turned gentle again, Glorfindel idly running his palms up and down Erestor’s back. 

He was afraid to break the moment, but there was more they needed to address. Not doing so earlier was a mistake. Glorfindel had tried to justify it for himself, and while it was true they had no time nor thought for explanations and declarations during the war, it still was a mistake. He should have told Erestor how he felt about him long ago. But how to address the topic now when Erestor had his mind elsewhere, how not to appear irreverent to his grief. 

“I have no past I could return to, so I keep thinking of the future. You are yet looking back,” Glorfindel murmured in the end, and it seemed it had been the right thing to say, because Erestor looked up at him and gave a little wry smile.

Encouraged, Glorfindel caressed the back of his hand down the front of Erestor open-necked shirt until he came to his breastbone and nimbly hooked his little finger around the thin cord, pulling out a hidden pendant. He felt Erestor breathe in sharply.

With eyes on the pendant Glorfindel pushed on: “Long have I wished I had the honor of owning a matching one. But being the brave warrior of old that I am, I had not the courage to ask. Perhaps you will grant my wish now?” 

He could feel Erestor watching him intently, but there was no answer. No choice but continue. “I must confess then when they asked us about our accommodation, I was so adamant to share the room with you because I hoped we could… that it would be like before… when we shared my tent,” he intimated. “I hoped that we could return to it and perhaps continue along that line. I thought you... were of the same mind. I see that I should not have assumed, that we should have talked, but there really was no time to. I wish to know your thoughts if you would give them. We have seen so little of each other lately.”

Here Glorfindel stopped and looked up to gaze expectantly into the dear green eyes. A weight was lifted from his shoulders when Erestor finally spoke. 

“As I said I am not at my best now. I avoided you, I am sorry. It might seem to you an excuse, but I did mean to give you space to find your footing here. Our bond was forged during wartime. You were alone, isolated yourself from others. There are many here who look at you hoping to win your affections. I believe you have experienced that at the ball.”

“How do you know? You were not there, were you?”

“No, I was here. I can imagine, though. Also Lindir has let his mouth run. I believe his exact words were: ‘I thought they would tear a bit each and take it home as souvenirs.’”

 _And he might have unwittingly strengthened your resolve to keep away from me._ Glorfindel smiled wryly. Then he chuckled, not necessarily at what Erestor said, more from the joy of finally seeing his beloved’s face more animated.

“Yes, well, it did feel like that at times. I had to basically run away later. Your crafty minstrel friend at least covered my retreat. I hoped I would return here and find you, but you slept and I did not want to disturb you. Maybe I should have.”

“I was tired,” Erestor murmured against his shirt. 

Glorfindel decided not to pursue the reason for the change in Erestor’s tone and continued the line of their conversation as if he had not noticed, “At any rate, I thank you for your consideration, Erestor, but I do not need anyone else’s affections if I have yours.” Because Erestor did acknowledge a bond existed between them. “Do you wish for me to choose another, Erestor? Please, answer me truthfully.”

“No, I don’t,” he even felt Erestor shake his head against his shoulder.

“Then don’t give me that option.”

Erestor lifted his head and their eyes met and held. 

“It is hard to know one’s worth. All heads turn when you walk by, and that is no wonder. When they look at you they see an ellon tall and strong, whose light shines brighter than any other's, whose hair are like spun rays of sunshine…”

Glorfindel was stunned into silence for a moment and he felt his eyes water. He never expected to hear something like this from the stern master spy. He chuckled, embarrassed.

“Stop, Erestor, or I will blush.”

“Please do,” Erestor gently stroked the blushing cheek with his fingertips.

Glorfindel turned and touched the fingertips with his lips. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

Erestor took a deep breath and let it out, “... a friend. And all that my heart desires.”

Glorfindel didn’t try to contain the happy smile that blossomed upon his face.

“That is well, then. Your heart should have what it desires, for when I look at you I see the same.”

Glorfindel carefully took Erestor’s face between his palms and kissed his forehead lightly. When he leaned back, Erestor wriggled closer and Glorfindel saw they indeed were of like mind now. Their lips met in a tender kiss. Both Erestor’s arms slipped around his neck and Glorfindel’s thighs were straddled. Glorfindel held on tight, his body tingling all over as their lips caressed. Lightheaded with pleasure and happiness, he turned and brought them both down on the bed without breaking the kiss. Erestor sighed against his lips, moving to caress the corner of Glorfindel’s mouth, his cheek and then his temple, burying his hot face there. 

Glorfindel lay there, his mind at last completely at peace with the world, though his body was thrumming with energy. He wished he could… He wanted more, wanted everything. Yet it was too early. He made himself mentally step back. 

He kissed the crown of Erestor’s head, fondly remembering Erestor’s clumsy attempt to save them from awkwardness after their first kiss after the tournament. It seemed so long ago. He ventured to make his own contribution: “I thought that your hair was this dull dusty brown. It turns out it had just been dusty, and is in fact a very nice dark brown.”

Erestor lifted his face from its hiding place, a grin splitting his still blushing face.

“Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humour is a bit… first age?”

Glorfindel burst out laughing. 

Nearly displaced by the mirth shaking Glorfindel’s body, Erestor slid to the side and poked Glorfindel in the ribs, chuckling himself. When they calmed down after a while they leaned their foreheads together and Glorfindel could feel Erestor's bare toes tentatively caressing his. 

“Glorfindel, we should probably see about the door if we wish to continue this…”

“Eh?”

“There is no lock.”

“Oh. Nobody would enter without knocking, would they?”

Before Erestor could answer him, the said door burst open...

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally!  
> I lost could of how many times I re-wrote and re-edited this chapter, mainly because parts of it were written from the very beginning, but the story development took me in a completely different direction.  
> Thank you for your lovely comments that kept urging me on.
> 
> *slinks into a corner exhausted*


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. As always, I'm sorry for the long absence, and thank you for staying with me and encouraging me with your lovely comments. I've been feeling rather low lately, so I managed just a short chapter/interlude, hopefully an amusing one :)

XXIX.

… the said door burst open admitting what seemed a collection of flying fabric and strands of hair, all in several hues of grey and blue. There was a silvered flute sticking out at the top. 

"Erestor! Have you forgo... Oh..." 

In the doorway, eyes wide, stood Lindir covering his open mouth with a slender white hand. After a few heartbeats of gaping at the scene before him, he turned on his heel and without another word left, shutting the door behind him with a bang.

Erestor shot up from Glorfindel’s embrace and was out of the room, as fast as an arrow, in pursuit of the fleeing minstrel. He cornered the confused Lindir in an alcove a few paces away and lunged at the minstrel, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Lin, you mustn't tell about this to anyone, you hear me?!"

"You two...?"

"Lindir, please, promise me you won't tell!"

"But why...?"

Erestor knew he was holding Lindir too tight, even bruising his arms with his grasping fingers, but he needed to get his point across. He shook the minstrel, hissing: "Lindir, swear!" The silver flute was dislodged from the knot of hair and clattered to the floor, the sound making Lindir flinch and cringe.

"I swear. I swear on the mercy of Valar!” Lindir burst out and made a feeble attempt to free himself but Erestor’s hands were like a vice. He whimpered quietly in distress, which finally had the desired effect of Erestor letting go.

“I won't tell, but I don't understand why it should be such a secret. People will know...," Lindir added in affronted whisper, tugging his disarranged robes into order.

"Yes, they might, eventually. But it's too soon now, and I don't want you to make it a number one gossip of Imladris." Erestor spoke firmly and frankly, interrupting the minstrel.

"... and I don't understand why you didn't tell me, when..." Lindir looked into Erestor’s solemn face, probably only just hearing what Erestor had said. He fell silent, bending his head. "I see. Sorry," he whispered.

Erestor embraced him then.

“You scare me sometimes…” mumbled Lindir into his shoulder. “And I'm still a bit sour about you not telling me in the first place, you know. We could have avoided this whole… unpleasant situation. How long has this been going on?"

"Lindir," growled Erestor, leaning back and holding his friend at arms length, mindful of the places where he probably bruised the delicate arms. He heard tentative footsteps behind him and knew them for Glorfindel’s.

Lindir smiled in the roguish way he had, "Just curious. I'm glad for you. I hope he treats you well,” there he looked behind Erestor’s shoulder meaningfully, “because if he doesn’t, I would… strangle him with a harp-string, or something!"

“I will try to avoid such a fate, it would not make for a very heroic ballad to add to my collection,” Glorfindel chuckled, bent down and picked up the fallen flute, handing it to the minstrel.

“Don’t laugh, Glorfindel. He once killed a warg with a flute,” said Erestor, completely serious, eyeing the instrument that was being exchanged.

“What?” Glorfindel looked at the small ingenuous silvery thing that had just been taken from his hand.

“Long metal flute straight through its eye. I saw it.”

What Erestor did not mention was the horror of seeing Lindir thrown off his horse and half-stunned trying to crawl away from an advancing beast, his muddied robe twisted around his legs restricting movement as effectively as a tightened rope. He caught Glorfindel’s eyes and saw that the warrior had understood.

Lindir sobered up considerably. “Pity that, it was a good flute. I did… extract it and clean it in the end, but I don’t think I will ever find it in me to play it again,” he grimaced and carefully examined his former hairpiece for defects. “I have it hanging over my fireplace. You know, like some of you soldiers hang swords. Well, it was nice chatting with you, and sorry for the interruption, but I must be off.” 

Lindir turned to leave but at the last moment whirled back and pointing the fortunately undamaged flute at Erestor, poked him with it in the chest. “Don’t think you’ll wriggle out of helping me today!” He then turned and hurried away, his sleeves billowing behind him.

Erestor and Glorfindel stared after him until the minstrel disappeared around a bend, then they exchanged glances and speedily returned back to their room. In accord, shoulder to shoulder they leaned back on the blessedly shut door. Erestor gave Glorfindel a sidelong glance and nodded his head several times, “Well, that was why I thought the door would use a lock.”

Glorfindel blinked and then blinked again, "Indeed." The corner of his mouth started twitching uncontrollably. 

They ended up on the floor with their back still leaning on the door, giggling like elflings.

~


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I had thought I would update on the second anniversary(!) of posting the first chapter, alas, the real life got in the way and has been doing that ever since. Autumn is the worst time workwise and the dark afternoons of winter just suck inspiration-wise.  
> On the positive note though, I have a new chapter for you as a present for the upcoming holidays :) Thanks for staying with me! Also, in an effort to drag myself back to writing I finally got myself a new tumblr sideblog reserved for my fic, stuff that inspired me, and everything elven in general. You can find it under the very original name of positively-sootfaced.tumblr :)

XXX.

When their mirth abated they sat silent for a while. 

“So it is a secret…” began Glorfindel. He spoke quietly for he was mindful there was just the wood of the door behind his back between them and the world from which the said secret was supposed to be kept.

“Yes. At least I think it would be best if it stayed one,” Erestor, speaking just as quietly, eyed him with uncertainty.

Glorfindel smiled. “I would gladly shout it into the whole wide world, but I will follow your judgment. To maintain secrecy in these matters is always a sound advice. That I know well, for in my times it was even doubly so. I don’t know if it is written in any books that have survived and that you have perhaps read, but…” he sighed, “... in Gondolin relationships such as ours were strictly forbidden, a crime against the state,” he finished bitterly. “Still, it did not mean that there were none, only that disclosure meant great trouble. But you cannot command the heart, can you?”

Erestor nodded, frowning. “You never married.”

“Hmm. How could I? I couldn’t make myself ruin some poor elleth’s life in that way. While I find ladies graceful and beautiful to look at, I don’t find them desirable.”

“You only... like ellyn?”

“Indeed, always have. I am glad Elrond has more liberal views than his great grandfather.”

Erestor sighed, “Do not be mistaken. It might officially be allowed by law now, but it is not always viewed favourably. The army is one thing, society in the time of peace is another. Many live here in Imladris who would see the old rules, those you had lived under, restored. You are too much of a… legend and you also hold an important position here now. Disclosure might cause a good deal of trouble for both of us. That is why I was so… firm with Lindir. He would have probably realized this himself very quickly, but his mouth is often faster than his thoughts.”

“I understand. Though it saddens me that our race has not yet come further in shedding the prejudice. Well, there is hope for the future.” Glorfindel took Erestor’s hand and pressed it warmly in both of his. “Let this room be our sanctuary.”

Erestor let their fingers entwine. “A fine sanctuary, with no means to secure it.”

“It is quite secure now,” Glorfindel indicated the door they were still leaning against. “We’ll just have to come up with an idea as how to very inconspicuously ask somebody to provide us with a lock.”

They chuckled.

Glorfindel smiled at Erestor again. Now he really thought about it, Lindir wasn’t the most beautiful elf he had seen from his arrival. He must have been blinded by the sparkly headdress, because Erestor was far superior to the minstrel in every way. From the crown of his mussed dark head to the tips of his bare pale toes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You are the most beautiful ellon I’ve ever seen.”

Erestor’s cheeks reddened. “Oh,” he snorted.

“You are,” Glorfindel leaned over and kissed the blushing cheek, and when the other turned slightly, surprised and about to speak, Glorfindel kissed him on the parted lips. With one hand he pressed Erestor’s long-fingered one to his chest over his speeding heart and the other he slid into Erestor’s hair on his warm nape, holding him close while they kissed. Now that it was allowed he couldn’t get enough. He could feel Erestor’s fingertips digging into his biceps. Pleasure raced through him, a shiver running up his spine, and a stray idea to lay Erestor on the floor right there by the door flashed through his mind, making red spots dance behind his closed eyelids.

Elves could be heard walking up and down the corridor behind the for once safely closed doors to their sanctuary. The busy sounds of the outside world eventually helped to clear the hot haze from Glorfindel’s mind and enabled him to pull away when breath finally became too scarce.

Glorfindel kissed Erestor’s temple one last time and stood up. He offered his hands to his most beautiful and currently rather flushed sweetheart and Erestor took them and was pulled up directly into Glorfindel’s embrace. There he was held close for another while.

“We should attend to our duties, but I hope we can continue this in the evening,” he whispered into Erestor’s ear and rejoiced in the shiver he could feel it had caused.

“So do I,” his beloved whispered back.

~

Glorfindel walked towards the sprawling compound of barracks whistling cheerfully, delighting in the beautiful morning. A light breeze brought a homely smell of baking bread to his nose and he could hear the rhythmical chip-chip of masons at work. Wood was being sawed not far away, the air scented with pine tree resin.  
As he walked, there on the path he chanced upon two small pebbles of a perfect oval shape lying side by side. The sight brought with it a memory of once picking stones on his walks through a different encampment very far away. He picked the two pebbles and put them into his pocket. An idea was born. He continued on, whistling.

~

After Glorfindel left, Erestor dressed quickly and combed his hair into submission. He kept smiling at his reflection in the mirror and felt slightly foolish for it. 

He arrived at Lindir’s office when the minstrel was just fishing a strand of his hair from an inkwell, the pale eyes desperately searching for something to wipe the hair down with. Erestor went to the rescue.

“See, that’s why I need you here,” grinned the minstrel.

Through the rest of the morning, Lindir amused himself by throwing Erestor roguish looks from time to time. In the afternoon he started to make teasing comments, which Erestor did his utmost to ignore. With the coming evening, however, Lindir obviously got bored of being ignored for the whole day and switched to openly rude jokes, nearly driving Erestor to a second bout of violence that day.

“Lindir, I warn you…”

“I am sorry! I could not resist. It’s so difficult to get a rise out of you... well, barring the morning episode, that is.” 

“It’s not funny.”

Lindir’s mood changed like lightning as it tended to do, his expression now contemplative. “It is not going to be easy, is it? I mean, with half the valley chasing after him for the obvious reason and the other half for some ulterior one.”

“No, probably not,” Erestor did not find any more words to comment on the minstrel’s statement.

“You do love him?”

Erestor must have given a good impression of a startled deer at that moment. “So much so that I don’t know what to do with myself,” he whispered in the end.

Lindir smiled at him. “Oh, you dear thing. Never thought I would get to see this. The impervious Erestor, head over heels in love.”

“If you don’t stop, you’ll end up head over heels in the garden pond.”

Lindir giggled delightedly, “I so love it when you threaten me. My goal for today was achieved,” he straightened his collar dramatically and turned back to his work. 

Erestor knew that Lindir was making such a spectacle to distract him from the misery that was still too present all around them and in the work they were doing, and he was grateful.

~

As the day began with a shared meal, it also finished with one. Glorfindel excused himself from a diner engagement and they dined together in the silence of their room.

“Why don’t you show me some of the games from your collection. I have only ever heard about it. I would like to know what companions my masterpiece has,” he suggested cheerfully, partly because he truly was curious and partly because he could see Erestor’s attention turning inward during the second course.

It seemed to be the right thing to say for the moment as the mention of his prized collection rejuvenated the other ellon. They played a randomly chosen board game for some time, but gradually Erestor again became pensive, running his hand through his lengthening hair, staring into space and not concentrating very much on his moves.

After Erestor indicated his surrender by toppling his heroine figure with a sigh, Glorfindel suggested, “Let us rest.” He was half waiting that Erestor would start apologizing again, but he had not, only giving an apologetic smile.

“I do not feel ready to sleep yet.”

Glorfindel himself was about ready to fall asleep on his feet, tired from the long day, but he knew he would not be able to find rest without Erestor comforted and next to him. The morning’s closeness seemed to be so far away.

“Where is your hairbrush?”

“Not serviceable anymore. I only have a comb. Why? Do I have a sparrow’s nest on my head?”

Glorfindel hummed in a displeased way, ignoring Erestor’s questions. “Mistake. Do you mind if I use mine?”

Erestor shook his head and waited looking somewhat apprehensively.

“I think it would be best to change into our sleep attire,” said Glorfindel, and they did. It was heartening there was no awkwardness between them in this regard, for this was something they had done in each other’s presence numerous times in the past.

Glorfindel fetched his hairbrush, sat on his bed, pushed back the blankets and scooted back so he could lean his back on the wall. He laid a pillow on his lap and plumped it demonstratively. “Come here,” he said smiling to Erestor who was standing by the bed watching him.

After a little pause, Erestor lay down with his head on Glorfindel’s lap, facing the room. Glorfindel stroked his forehead and brushed his hair for a while. The tension in Erestor’s shoulders abated only marginally.

“Talk to me.”

In the next few hours Erestor’s hair were brushed from all sides and angles into a shine and gloss of freshly spun silk and Glorfindel learned much about Erestor’s late friends. In turn he was asked to share what he could remember about Ecthelion and the other lords of the once mighty city of Gondolin.

When the moon was nearing its journey of the night sky they curled up under one blanket and both rested peacefully, Glorfindel’s lips brushing Erestor’s forehead.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I kinda found my Glorfindel. I've been listening to some old favourite songs lately (as a stress relief) and ugh, Mr.Big's drummer Pat in the mid 90s. Hot! That fringe! Go check him out to my tumblr if you want :)  
> (And now I want a rock band AU fic, because with a little imagination the singer could just as well be repurposed as Erestor... Are there some rock band AUs? I have a feeling I've read at least one in the past but I can't find it now.)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, thank you for cheering me on by your lovely comments and kudos. (Frankly I was really surprised by the amount of kudos for the last chapter T_T *sniff* thank you!) And thanks to those of you who started following my tumblr sideblog mentioned in the last chapter.
> 
> As a reward for the long wait, this chapter is somewhat longer than is usual for me :)  
> It took me so long to finish because I ended up changing the whole outline, adding completely new material and then rewriting the thing from the bottom up for good measure. It seemed important to build up the characters a bit more and the view of their future, but I'm not quite sure of how well it ties with the rest of the story. Please let me know what you think.

XXXI.

Glorfindel got up when the dawn was breaking and Erestor furtively watched him dress through his lashes in the gray morning light. After a kiss on the forehead and a softly murmured farewell Glorfindel went away leaving Erestor lounging in bed for a while longer. 

Erestor buried his face in the pillow they had shared, turning into the darkness away from the reaching rays of sunshine that seemed to have started their search for the golden mane to light. Sadly they won’t find it now. The pillow still smelled faintly of laundry soap which in itself was one of the most comforting smells Erestor knew. But it wasn’t what made him rub his cheek on the fabric and sigh quietly. The sole reason for that was the sweet scent of Glorfindel’s hair lingering on the soft cream-coloured fabric.

He let himself drift on the aftermath of restful sleep and, for a while, dozed again. At last when the warm fingers of Arien caressed his averted face he stretched and stared at the whitewashed ceiling, his brow creased in thought.

The inappropriateness of their relationship scared him more than he let on to Glorfindel. Now he thought of it, his self-sacrificial avoidance to confront Glorfindel in the first days after arriving to Imladris had been a show of it. When he had heard from Lindir what sensation Glorfindel caused during the feast, it only discouraged him more. That was why he offered Glorfindel the easy way out. What would happen had Glorfindel taken it and relented in his advances, he did not wish to think about. He was not sure if he would ever recover from the hurt of it.

Glorfindel managed to convince him that all was as Erestor had hoped and longed for it to be, but he did not manage to quiet his fears of the judgement of others. There would be no freedom for them and a constant fear of discovery. The strain it would put on them... And it won't be possible to keep the secret forever.

Glorfindel was new to this time and age and had lived under even stricter rules but somehow he seemed to have gotten the impression that much had changed since. It had, but not nearly as much. They were beings with long lives and longer memories, not prone to changing their ways, unless under dire circumstance and great duress. Or maybe the world truly was brighter now and it was Erestor himself who became hardened, suspicious and mistrustful, trained to hide in the shadows and not draw attention. Had the war changed him so much? Was he overly cautious?

Still, it was anyone's guess how the general populace would react to the most eligible bachelor choosing a male mate. One of no particular status at that. Which was another matter to contend with. Strict hierarchy was still one of the foundations of the elven society. Glorfindel's own view on this subject may be somewhat skewed and Erestor could not fault him for it. The privilege of the high-born to conveniently forget about status when it suited them was, however, a luxury that the lower born had not. Erestor himself had learned that very early on during his breeding at king's court. And when things eventually came to a head, it was very rarely the lord who faced the consequences. That calmed him for Glorfindel’s sake. Himself was another matter entirely.

He would take consequences but he was afraid of what it would mean... what it will, one day, mean for them as a unit. He was also not as hypocritical and blind to his own ambition to pretend even to himself that he would not mind the damage to his possible career and status that might go with it… Perhaps the answer, or at least a part of it, lay in the problem itself. He could not change who he was. What he could change was who he would become. He had enough confidence in his abilities to know that he could go high if... If he had no scandal to trip his feet.

To part with Glorfindel for the amount of time necessary to reach his goals was not a viable option. So he would take his chances, as he always used to, and make the best of them. That was the plan. It calmed him to have one. A somewhat sketchy and long-ranged plan, but a plan nonetheless.

How he missed the warm body next to him. 

His mind had held his body and soul in a crushing grip throughout the war and now he was frightened to feel the control loosen, to feel himself unraveling. Emotion was intruding his every waking moment, confusing his thoughts once clear and precise, cold and reliable. His body was calling for care and pleasing sensations so long denied by the hard and lonely service he had been chosen for through the war.

He turned back into the pillow with another sigh. He desired comfort and delights; lounging in bed, eating sweet fruits, holding and being held and kissed, rubbing his cheek on Glorfindel’s bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his faithful heart and feeling his fingers sink in the lovely silken tresses of gold and sunlight…

Arien again insistently knocked at his closed eyelids calling to his sense of duty that threatened to be buried under the whimsies of his rebellious body. The room was flooded with light and he knew it was time to get up and leave his personal thoughts behind. 

Working solely for the good of others used to be the purpose of his life. From now on, he would set a piece of the work aside for himself. Because now, he had a plan.

~

Despite his slow start, he was the first one at Lindir’s office that day. The minstrel himself came in a little while later, in a flurry about something or other. Erestor was not quite sure what the matter was as he had only caught the closing part of Lindir’s rant.

“... oh, and I met Elrond on the way and he said he wanted to see you.”

“Now?” started Erestor.

“Not now, during the morning, he said. You can take the documents to him when we finish with the figures.”

Erestor nodded, dropping back down into his chair.

“You look good today, by the way. Slept well?” Lindir winked at him.

“I have indeed. Thank you for asking,” Erestor smiled sweetly, refusing to rise to the bait.

Lindir narrowed his eyes at him but said nothing more.

They worked in silence for a while. Erestor eventually broke it, “Lindir?”

“Hmm?”

“Have I changed much? During the war?”

Two eyes like pools of clear water shining with Tilion’s light regarded him solemnly.

“We all have, Erestor. How could we have not? Does it matter? You are still you, my best friend.”

~

Elrond looked better, more rested, calmer. The casual robe he was wearing only strengthened the impression. Erestor was glad to see him.

“Due to your previous experience I would like you to officially assume the position of Lindir’s assistant and also sit on the council in his stead when we manage to put it back together in some form, whenever that may be,” here Elrond gave a wry smile. 

Erestor’s surprise must have shown on his face, because Elrond continued, “You know how Lindir is about council sessions and I frankly have no time nor patience for his tomfoolery now. It would be easier this way.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Erestor nodded with a barely suppressed smile. Lindir’s excuses for why he could not make a timely arrival to council meetings ranged from hardly believable to hilarious and used to be nearly as often talked about and as legendary as his singing voice.

“Do you accept my proposition, Erestor?”

“Gladly, my lord. I am honored,” Erestor replied with a little bow of his head. Elrond’s trust in his abilities pleased him for more than one reason. The offer of a new position filled his chest with a warm sense of accomplishment.

“Good,” here Elrond tilted his head to the side, somewhat reminiscent of a bird. He looked at Erestor for a moment, giving a slight smile. Then he spoke again. His words, though not spoken harshly, caused the warmth in Erestor’s chest to plummet below freezing point, more surprising than if Elrond stood up and slapped him. 

“Now then, is there perhaps something I should know about fraternization in my higher ranks?”

Erestor felt the blood drain from his face, black dots obscuring his vision for an instant. He was unable to take a breath. His hands started trembling, the sensation in his fingertips almost gone. He stared at Elrond with his mouth half open.

He was about to start stuttering, what, he did not know, when Elrond spoke again in a much kinder tone, “Peace, Erestor. It was not my intention to scold or upset you. I only want to know what I should take into account regarding my new junior counselor and my future captain of the guard.”

Erestor finally managed to take a breath, although it was barely sufficient to fill his empty lungs.

“How do you know?” he finally blurted, forgetting all propriety, and it came out barely above a whisper.

“I have introduced you two, don’t you remember? And I have worked with both of you closely since then, for years. I have seen you immersed in a game together. I knew the most likely place to find you when you were in camp was Glorfindel’s tent,” there Elrond paused for a moment, but then went on, “I have seen Glorfindel sick with worry for you when you were away, and heard his stuttering plea for me to examine your wounds preferentially on the morning of the last battle. He had found you and bound your wounds himself, for which I am very grateful.”

Erestor nodded numbly, clasping his tingling hands behind his back while his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

“You do not want others to know. That is understandable and perhaps wise as things now stand. I do not wish to intrude upon your privacy but I considered it necessary to make you aware of my knowledge, so we could all conduct ourselves accordingly for the good of all involved. I now see I should have approached the topic with more caution. I am sorry, Erestor, it was not my intention to startle you so. Do you need to sit down?” 

Erestor’s knees did not threaten to buckle under him anymore, so he declined the offer and acknowledged Elrond’s apology politely.

“I swear to you, my lord, that all rules of duty and propriety will be observed.”

“I am sure of that. Thank you,” Elrond’s smile turned wistful and his eyes tender. “I am glad for you, Erestor, and I want you to remember that this is not Lindon. I am the lord here and I will make the rules as I see fit.”

Although his morning musings were harshly brought to reality by the lord of the valley himself, Erestor was leaving Elrond’s office with an easier mind. Apart from the new position he had a feeling he had also been given a very important promise.

~

During the afternoon a messenger came with a stack of letters. Tied to a military correspondence was a note addressed directly to Erestor. Erestor opened it frowning, he had an inkling from whom it might be but as to the content of the letter… 

_Cannot make it to dinner. Very sorry. Till later._

There was no signature nor an initial but in their customary place was drawn a little flower with five rounded petals.

He sighed.

Lindir, always most perceptive when it least suited those around him, looked up from his writing, “What is it?”

“It is from Glorfindel,” replied Erestor.

“Oh? Show me! Is it naughty?”

Erestor shoved the note at him, opting to do so without a hassle, because he wasn't ready to sacrifice the correspondence on his desk which might get ink-stained while Lindir tried to wrestle the note from him.

“Hmmm. Ditching you for the company of some noble maiden, no doubt. That went fast. Where's my harp?”

Erestor snorted.

~

Glorfindel arrived late. He felt grumpy and tired, but the sight of Erestor gently pruning his plants in their little room cheered him up greatly. He embraced Erestor from behind, careful of the knife in his hand and the leaves and twigs on the table, and smacked a rather enthusiastic kiss on his cheek. Then he gathered his toiletries and left to wash the day off.

When he came back the plants were back on the windowsill and all detritus cleaned away. Erestor stood by the dresser and fiddled with something there. Glorfindel came closer with a view to another embrace, but Erestor lifted a hairbrush between them as if warding him off.

“Glorfindel, may I brush your hair tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

Glorfindel compensated for the thwarted embrace by hugging Erestor’s waist while Erestor went through his hair, strand by strand, finally braiding it loosely. During the grooming the only sounds that could be heard were Glorfindel’s happy sighs. After the braid was nearly done, Erestor sighed also, but it was a sigh of a very different nature, or at least that was how it sounded to Glorfindel.

“What is it, my dearest?” he enquired, not letting go of Erestor’s waist.

Erestor was quiet for a while and Glorfindel started wondering if he would get an answer. He frowned into the warm fabric on Erestor’s belly but held his curiosity in check. In the end, his patience was rewarded.

“Elrond called me to his office today. He told me among other things… he told me he knows about… us.”

Glorfindel turned, pulling the unfinished end of the braid from Erestor’s unmoving fingers. They looked at each other, Erestor’s eyes were dark under his lowered lashes. He lifted a hand and stroked Glorfindel’s forehead. Glorfindel reached up himself and caressed Erestor’s cheek, his patience at its end.

“What did he have to say to you?” he asked, perhaps more firmly than he had intended.

“He only wished for me to know that he was aware and that it was indeed for the best.”

“Oh… Why did he not confront me? I have met with him several times. I have seen him today even!”

Erestor shrugged, “I do not know... but he wishes us well.”

Glorfindel sat up, feeling the braid Erestor had made quickly unwinding on his back. He pressed his forehead to Erestor’s and gave him a slightly awkward-angled but tender kiss. There was something Erestor was not telling him but he decided not to pry. 

A while later, Erestor made to extricate himself from the embrace, “I have something for you.” 

He crossed the room to their chest of drawers and Glorfindel heard a rustle and a soft noise of a lid opening and closing. 

He waited, intrigued. 

Erestor returned, holding something in a closed palm. Glorfindel reached out cupping his hands under Erestor’s. What looked like a small medallion on a gilded chain was carefully deposited onto his fingers, Erestor’s hand brushing his warmly.

Glorfindel lifted his gaze momentarily to look into Erestor’s eyes, but they were lowered to the small jewellery. It was elegant and delicately made, an expensive gift that would take a long time to craft. Glorfindel wondered briefly at it, but as he turned it around in his fingers he noticed that the little piece of jewellery was hardly new, there were marks of wear present though barely visible in the candlelight.

“For me… It is beautiful! Where did you…?” he stopped himself before he could finish that foolish question. But Erestor answered it nonetheless, and it proved not so foolish after all.

“It has been in my posession for… nearly my whole life. It held my naneth’s hair at one time, but I had it joined to adar’s long ago, so they could be together as I hope they are, somewhere in the Halls of waiting. So I thought that… I would like you to have it.” 

Glorfindel was speechless. After more careful examination he found that the medallion was indeed a locket with an intricate filigree lid and a tiny clasp inside. He stared alternately at Erestor and at the locket in his palm, threading the chain around his fingers, and the picture was getting blurry because his eyes were filling with tears. 

“Thank you. I shall treasure it,” he whispered and let the tears flow over and roll down his cheeks and felt them dampening the fabric of his shirt. It occurred to him now why Erestor had taken a strand of his hair. A physical keepsake of a memory of him should they not meet on these shores again. Glorfindel never thought his request for a recompense for his hair would be paid in a way so meaningful.

Erestor watched him silently, holding out a small knife and a piece of a silken thread. Glorfindel paid this offering no mind. Instead he took the dear face between his palms and kissed Erestor, pouring all the sweet heartache that was clawing at his soul into the action.

Only after that he reached for the knife and thread and exchanged them for the opened locket. He carefully tied and braided a thin strand of the dark hair and severed it, and together they wound it and manipulated it into the locket. Closed, it shined and glinted in the candlelight.

Glorfindel was about to put it around his neck but a worrying notion stopped him while he handled the delicate golden chain. He could not possibly ever lose the locket. 

“Erestor, do you perhaps have another piece of cord or a leather strip?” 

“Let me see.”

One was found in Erestor’s box of odds and ends and Glorfindel painstakingly wound it around the chain. 

Erestor watched him and then suddenly blurted out in a small voice, “Keep it… hidden.” 

Glorfindel nodded although reluctantly. He would keep to what they had agreed on but he did not have to like it. He had noticed earlier that Erestor’s own pendant was now tucked in a plain little linen sachet. 

Together they fastened the locket around Glorfindel’s neck. When that was done, Erestor was smiling at him happily and Glorfindel could not help but return the smile, although his throat was tight with emotion and in his heart raged a tempest. Through it only one thought was clear. He blew out the candle, pulled Erestor to him and they lay down in preparation for sleep. 

In the dark, Glorfindel whispered that single thought. 

“My love.”

~


End file.
